Patience
by Skellagirl
Summary: Alice resides in the White Queen's castle as the Champion of Underland. Stayne is the Head of Security... and he is falling madly in love with her. -Alice/Stayne-
1. Comfort

A/N: So I saw Alice in Wonderland last Sunday and kinda fell in love with the Alice/Stayne crack-pairing (How DO you spell his name?). :P This is my first attempt at writing them, so I'm sorry for any OOC-ness and stuff. Feel free to point them out if you notice them.

I do have half a mind to continue this, but... yeah. I don't think it'd be very long. XD Plus I don't know if anyone would read it, hahahaha...

Alice and the Knave of Hearts belong to Lewis Carroll/Tim Burton (These versions, at least!)

* * *

Ilosovic Stayne stopped and listened. He could hear bare feet shuffling along the cold marble floor some ways off. Whoever it was would have to be either crazy or an intruder, as it was past three in the morning and the only creatures out at the moment were guards, and there were only a few of those around. Nobody ever tried to break into the White Queen's castle except amateur thieves who couldn't even make it past the outside patrol, so there seemed little need for very many guards. Still, any disturbance was a bad disturbance in Stayne's opinion, and even if it was just a maid or an advisor, they had no right going around and interrupting other people's dreams.

He followed the steps. They weren't too far away, and soon enough he had gained on them. Peering around the nearest wall, he caught sight of a long night-shirt hurrying down the next hall, and without hesitation he took off after it, reaching and rounding the corner in a matter of seconds. He grasped the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it should the need arise, but instead of a bandit he spotted Alice, evidently surprised that she'd been caught. She had managed to make it some thirty feet, and despite the distance it was obvious there was something wrong. There was a look of slight annoyance on her face, as if this was the absolute worst time he could have interfered, and he could have sworn he could see her trying to discreetly wipe her cheeks as he approached.

"Alice? What are you doing out so late?"

She glared up at him, the glisten in her eyes unmistakable, and in this light he could just make out the extra flush on her skin, securing his suspicions. "I would ask the same about you, except I know that you like to be out late in case I'm out late," she said. She was half-right. Technically speaking, he could have finished his shift an hour ago, but he had had the luck to catch her alone every now and again, plus he was rarely tired until the extra ill hours of the night, so he had decided he would spend his restless hours on patrol instead of tossing and turning in bed. She turned and began walking away.

"Halt," he commanded. She slowed to a stop, but did not turn around. As he was in fact a guard, she was required to stop whenever ordered, but that did not mean she would cooperate. He knew she would rather stand in silence for an hour than just explain herself and move on, and even with his authority he couldn't force her to confide in him something she didn't want to, so standing here until his legs gave way was a very realistic possibility. Her head and shoulders drooped, trying to remain as silent as possible until he let her go. He walked over, the repetitive clack of his shoes against the floor breaking up the silence, and stopped in front of her, staring down at her bowed head expectantly. She shuddered as repressed sobs passed through her. He knew he was just making it worse by standing there, but he was going to try for just a few more minutes before he gave up. He didn't know where she was headed this early in the morning, but he suspected that she would be alone. He knew she didn't like to burden others with her sadness, but the only way he was going to let her go off and cry herself to sleep in a bathroom was if she fought him bare-knuckled.

Finally she spoke, wiping her cheeks with her shaking hands. "I've not a sane friend in the whole Underland to turn to," she mumbled, shaking her head and refusing to look up at him. She wrapped her arms around herself, her nightgown settling attractively over her small frame, and bit her lip. "My closest friend is completely mad. The White Queen is so preoccupied right now that I… I…" She looked up at him from under her lashes, tears pooling under her eyes. "Why am I telling you this?" she asked.

He was a bit taken by surprise, not expecting her to ask him anything and just continue talking. He shrugged, trying to act unaffected. "Because I am a good listener," he suggested, the last bit of his sentence sounding not unlike like a question. They stared at each other, and then Alice let out a small groan, hiding her face in her hands again. He sighed, setting his hand experimentally on her back. She flinched at his touch, but didn't pull away. With some amount of satisfaction, he led her a few steps over to a bench and sat her down, then took a seat next to her.

She just sat there and cried, her hands clasped over face in an effort to mute her sobs and appear more ladylike or something. He watched her, aching to wrap her up in his arms and stroke his hands through her hair. Of course, she would not like that at all, and he would probably end up with a serious injury to one or more important body-parts. On the other hand, he had already lost an eye, and in the back of his mind he wondered if she could do any worse. She leaned back, wiping her already tear-stained sleeves across her face.

"You know," he told her, "I am a very secure confidant."

She turned and looked at him, her brow furrowed. He pinched his lips together, unsure of what her expression meant. It was the truth. He had kept a lot of secrets for the Red Queen, some he would take to his grave (And some he just preferred to forget). He would do the same for Alice if only she asked.

She seemed to be considering it for a moment, nodding her head in thought, and then she shrugged. "But you're also a liar, and a backstabber," she said, scowling.

He frowned. That had hit somewhat below the belt, even if it was the truth. She'd seen it, the Red Queen had seen it, the White Queen had seen it… Everyone had, and he did not regret lying to save his own hide. In his mind it had all been necessary, and he would do it again if his life or sanity depended on it, but not to Alice.

He grinned and leaned back, crossing his arms and his legs. He would not try to convince her. She stared at him, a puzzled expression creeping onto her face, and then she turned away and stared at the opposite wall, acting like she wanted to get up but not doing so. He could almost hear the gears in her mind whirring as her thoughts roiled about. He felt a bit smug for a moment, but then she slipped back into depression, slumping to the side with her head hung low. She leaned forward, almost standing up, and then relaxed yet again, hiding her face under her mass of blonde hair.

"Sometimes it gets quite lonely here in the Underland," she said, her voice quavering.

He understood completely, but to say so would only get him more trouble, so he remained silent.

"There's not anyone to talk to. No one like me," she said. "Nobody at all." She leaned back, drew her legs up to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees, revealing that she was wearing thick, flowery trousers underneath her nightgown. She pulled it down over her ankles, anyway.

"Nobody at all? What about the Queen?" he asked.

"She's… She not… normal."

Well, she definitely had a point there. The White Queen was not normal, even by Underland's standards. She had proven herself to be a formidable enough ruler, but between her unconventional treatment of wrongdoers and her odd, sometimes snap decisions regarding problems both large and small (Not to mention a rumored relationship with a certain hatter that had little to no basis in reality), she was definitely the subject of some speculation. Still, he would have expected Alice to find some kind of companion in her.

He wanted to suggest himself, and he was so close to doing so, but he held back. If Alice wanted to confide in him she would have to do so on her own terms, whatever her personal decision on his secret-keeping credibility.

"One cannot have just a normal conversation over tea… It's always got to be politics, riddles, or nonsense. Sometimes all I crave is a smart talk, even if it just about the weather!" she cried, becoming quite animated, and turned her face around to look at him, as if expecting his opinion. Caught unawares, all he said was,

"Yes."

Her eyes instantly watered up again, her nose and eyes overcome with a fresh red flush, although instead of looking sad she looked more afraid. "You're not listening, either," she whispered. She whipped her head the other way, her thick blonde braid flipping across her shoulders, and gave into another fit of tears. He did not see why his apparent 'not listening' upset her so much, but he supposed she was so starved for intelligent discussion that she had reached a breaking point. Whatever the reason, whether it was what she had already expressed or something entirely different, he did not like to see her cry.

He leaned forward and set his hand on her back, rubbing back and forth. Her crying ceased and was replaced with a soft, startled gasp. She looked back at him with those sweet, sad eyes of hers and he looked straight back, knitting his brow. "It's been getting rather chilly these days," he said. "Have you noticed… or is it just me?"

There was silence. A small, timid smile slowly spread across Alice's lips before she sat up straight, leaning back. "I've noticed that, as well," she whispered, sniffling. "I suppose winter must be just around the corner… Uh, that is, assuming Underland has winter…?"

He scoffed. "Of course. Winter in Underland can be grueling if you don't have proper lodgings."

She laughed, just a little, but didn't say anything. He smiled, letting his hand slide off her back and return to his chest, a little reluctantly. She had felt so warm and pleasant, even through his leather gloves, but he'd have been a fool to linger any longer. He knew Alice enough to know that she was not going to give him her full trust for one kind deed. He would have to work a little harder for it.

She sighed, looking a little awkward, and then stood up and stretched her legs. She faced him, full of a small, weak, but existent assurance. She wrapped her arms around herself again and bit her lip for a moment, searching for something to say. He pulled himself to the edge of the bench, waiting.

"Thank you," she said, her voice quiet. He gave a little bow, then stood up. She kept her gaze firmly locked on him. "I suppose I should go to bed. And so should you," she told him.

"I will."

She nodded in approval. "Good… Well, good night," she said. He took a chance (Because, really, it was there, right in the open) and slid his hand into hers, leaned down, and pressed his lips against it for a brief moment before letting it go and drawing himself up to his full height.

"Good night," he replied. There was a bigger, enigmatic, somewhat amused smile on her face now. She bowed her head to him, then turned and walked off without looking back. He smiled, feeling quite satisfied with himself as he watched her leave, then turned and walked the other way.

It seemed all his patience was _finally _starting to pay off.


	2. Introspective

Okay, so I decided to continue it. ;P I think in the back of my mind I knew that, if people wanted me to continue it, I would make it a three-shot (Tri-shot? :B), so there'll be one more chapter after this one.

Sorry for the not-as-much talking in this one. I wanted it to be more of Alice's feelings and thoughts on her developing relationship with Stayne, so that's what I tried to focus on. Hopefully I achieved this, hahaha. Also, I've only ridden a horse twice, but the first was when I was too smal to remember and the second was supervised, so I have no idea how accurate my horse knowledge is.

Anyway, yeah. I hope you enjoy it! And like always, feel free to review/critique/flame/whatever if the desire seizes you. :P

I do not own anything except a weird fondness for this couple! :O

* * *

Alice adjusted the lapels of her coat for what seemed like the tenth time, pulling her hair away from her shoulders and staring in the mirror. _I look fine_, she told herself again, her insides rioting with butterflies as she thought about the day laid out before her. Somehow Ilosovic Stayne of all people had convinced her to spend the day with him. She didn't exactly remember the specifics of the conversation, but she could recall that he had mentioned that he had no shift today, and that he should very much like to have tea with her, and maybe even go riding if the weather allowed, all in the same breath. If he had been nervous he had not shown it. And then there might have been some small talk, but the memory was all hazy, and then out of nowhere she had said yes, and just like that the date had been set.

She turned and looked out the window. The weather was indeed nice. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground as far as she could see, while the sky was a bluish grey, the clouds drifting high in the sky. She went over and touched the window. The cold glass was a relief to her tingling fingers, and when she pulled away she could see her fingerprints in the condensation that had settled there. She smiled to herself, straightened her shirt, and headed out of her bedchamber, trying to fight the nervous urge to call the whole thing off.

Her first stop was the stables. They had agreed to ride for a bit and then come back and warm up with some tea. Alice had hastily agreed to try and get away before her entire face became red, although in truth she had only ridden a horse once before in her life, and her only hope now was that she could get through the ride without humiliating herself too much. To her luck, she at least knew where the stables were, so she didn't have to ask anybody and was able to get there within a reasonable amount of time. When she arrived she found Stayne already there, grooming and preparing his horse. He spotted her and grinned.

"Alice, there you are," he said as she approached. She gave him a small curtsy.

"Hello, Stayne," she said, slight hesitance preceding his name. She inwardly kicked herself for being so nervous. It was only a name, just like Tarrant's or Nivens', there was no need to get so hung up about it. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did he disguised it very well, bowing and then patting a grey speckled horse next to him.

"I thought we would take the… non-speaking variety of horse today," he told her. She was puzzled, unaware until now that there was a speaking variety. "I've taken the liberty of preparing your horse for you. You need only to mount him and lead him out of the stable. I will be out in just a moment." He went back to his own horse, which was noticeably taller than her own and jet-black. She followed the line of the reins to a knot on a nearby hook, which was secured on a big wooden pillar. She undid the knot and fingered the leather beneath her gloved fingers, trying to remember what her first riding experience had been like and failing horribly. Her gaze traveled to Stayne, whose back was turned to her. She stared at him.

It had been a month and a half since that night in the hall; that night that had begun just like any other and ended in a manner that she had never been able to predict. She could still remember with perfect clarity the feeling of his hand on her back, the unexpected fire that had flew through her limbs at his touch, and the strange feeling of comfort he had brought to her with his light conversation. It enthralled her to relay the events in her mind, and at the same time it sent a cold terror through her. Was she taking a risk, getting to know the right hand man of the Red Queen? He had been a killer, an assassin with a stone heart. What if he was just getting close to her to get close to the White Queen? What if the Red Queen was just in hiding, waiting to overthrow her sister, take back the throne, and restart her tyranny? The thought sent a shudder through Alice. The last thing she wanted was to seem like a backstabber to Mirana, and if the Red Queen were to steal back power, Alice's connection to Stayne would be an ugly black mark on her record, and would mean all kinds of pain for the both of them.

She shut her eyes and squeezed the reins, hoping to release some frustration in doing so. The horse snorted and moved away uneasily, its hooves clopping against the hay-covered floor of the stable. Stayne turned around, surprised to find her still there.

"Alice…" he mumbled. Opening her eyes, she looked at him. Before he had a chance to say anything more, she interrupted.

"Oh, yes. I got… preoccupied," she stuttered, hoisting herself onto the horse clumsily and trying to disguise it as style. He stared at her, bewildered. She bit her lip, her heart racing, and glanced at him.

She hadn't meant it to last more than a second, but the moment her gaze locked with his she found it difficult to look away. He seemed to want to say something, but he remained silent, looking almost concerned for her sanity. She felt heat invade her cheeks as she blushed, that nagging feeling of nervousness refusing to die and yet making the whole moment so much more intense. She smiled teasingly.

"Don't be too long, alright?" she asked, then flicked the reins. The horse exited the stable at a quick pace, much to her satisfaction. She was glad he hadn't bucked her off, as that would have been much too embarrassing to ever walk away from with her dignity intact.

The horse trotted around in the snow, quite happy to be out of the stable. She took the moment alone to try and reacquaint herself with riding, trying to match the rhythm of the horse, sit up straight, not pull on the reins too hard, and the other many trivialities, but she was sure she was missing something. Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn't important.

Out of nowhere Stayne's horse raced by with Stayne on top, nearly giving her a heart-attack. She watched, baffled, as he looked back at her.

"Don't be too long, alright?" he called, looking maddeningly smug. She hesitated, unsure of what to do to get her horse going faster. She flicked the reins, but he just went from a trot to a slow lope. She glanced up at Stayne, who was getting further and further away. He glanced back at her, then began rounding back towards her. She noticed as he kicked his feet that the horse went faster. She mimicked him, and her horse took off.

A strange mix of adrenaline and fear rushed through her as the horse galloped across the snow covered field, her heart bouncing uncontrollably around in her chest with the beat of the gallop. She looked to Stayne, who was opposite her and tightening his turn to come up beside her. She noticed how he was steering his horse and did the same. Her horse began a gradual turn to the left as Stayne's came galloping up to her side.

Neither of them said anything, caught up in the moment. The wind rushing past her face was unlike anything she had felt before, stinging her cheeks and invigorating her senses. This was much more freeing than a dull carriage ride. Again her gaze traveled to her riding companion, who was not paying attention to her. She felt a little jealous watching him. He was so much more experienced than her. It was like he was almost in-tune with his horse, like he could sense what the horse was going to do before it happened. She looked at his face. From where she was, his good eye was visible, calm and focused on the scenery in front of him, but with a subtle spark deep inside. As much as she hated to admit it, there was something very fascinating about him. He was a mystery of sorts to her, like a book that she had just begun… and was turning out to be very captivating.

Since that night in the hall, she had found herself in his presence much more than usual. For a while they had taken walks in the castle when she had nothing to do and decided to accompany him on his shift, but then it had been proved that she distracted him from his work so they had been forced to come to an end. However, those few walks had been spent discussing a myriad of things, from things as insignificant as the day's events to things as profound as death. One of the most refreshing things about having conversations with him was that he treated her unlike any of the men in London, who had treated her like some fragile doll who might shatter at the very mention of major misfortune despite that she had witnessed and survived the death of her own father. Stayne, however, didn't even think twice. He treated her like a human and not an object, and was not afraid to discuss anything with her, so long as she wanted to.

Her thoughts drifted even further back to the halls of the Red Queen's castle, when she had been under the alias of Um, that night when he had pinned her against that wall. Everything had changed so much since then… She had grown up, both mentally and physically. She was more mature, more level-minded. And he… well, he had changed, as well, since joining the White Queen's troupe… She had been so shocked to find out that he was even still alive, _and_ that she would have to share the castle with him. It had been frightening at first. She had never gone anywhere without Tarrant for a few weeks, until Stayne had proven that he wasn't going to stab her in the face or accost her in some distant corner.

She suddenly realized that Stayne was no longer next to her, and when she pulled herself back to reality she found that she was headed straight for a solid wall of trees and dead blackberry bushes. Panicking, she yanked the horse's reins in no particular direction. The horse whinnied angrily, stood on its hind legs, then took off again, sending her crashing to the cold, hard ground. The wind was knocked out of her, and the next moment she felt a cold, dark terror set in when she couldn't breathe.

"Alice!" Stayne was by her side in an instant. He kneeled down and grabbed her under the arms, lifting her into a sitting position. She clutched at him, her hand landing on his knee for support, trying to breathe. Without hesitation, he ripped off her jacket and reached around her back, pulling a knife out of his boot and preparing to slash through her corset. He touched her spine and ran his hand down it, searching for the seam, but came upon nothing. She pushed him away, air rushing into her lungs with such force that she began coughing.

The next few moments were silent except for her shuddering, gasping coughs. When she finally recovered, she looked up at him, her hand still gripping his knee so tightly her knuckles were white. He looked horrified, returning her coat to her shoulders.

"You're hurt," he hissed. "There might be broken ribs."

She grabbed his arm with her free hand, shaking all over. She couldn't feel anything in her chest at the moment, so she couldn't disagree, but the thought sent a fresh panic through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

"I… I… No," she squeaked.

"I should take you back to the castle," he said, not listening to her. He slid one arm around her back and the other under her knees, then stood up. Her stomach took an awful lurch as she was lifted almost seven feet into the air, the trees around her dancing and waving.

"No, no… I… I'm fine," she said, setting a hand on his chest. He ignored her, whistling to her runaway horse. It came galloping back full-speed, sliding to a wild stop about six feet away. He grabbed its reins and led it to his horse, hooking them up together. "Stayne," she said loudly, tapping her knuckles on his armor. He paused and looked down at her. "I'm fine," she insisted. He stood there, motionless, reluctant to let her go. In truth, she felt just fine enough to ride back to the castle on her own. She knew she could. She was strong. "I can do it."

He blinked a few times, then barely managed to suppress rolling his good eye, making his disapproval blaringly obvious as he set her down. She wobbled, her knees feeling like jelly, but managed to regain her balance and make it to her horse. He followed her, ready to catch her again if she fell. She grabbed the saddle and braced herself. Her head felt like it was full of cotton, her arms and legs weak, but she summoned all her strength and made her best attempt to pull herself onto her horse. She made it halfway and then her knee gave out and she tumbled back down. He somehow managed to catch her in midair, and she gave herself up. It seemed he was right, after all.

He mounted his horse and began a quick gait towards the stable, holding her close. "What in the world happened back there?" he asked.

She crossed her arms, her chest aching. Some small part of her wanted to break down and cry, but she was too embarrassed and angry with herself to acknowledge it. "I don't know," she muttered. "I just… lost control, I guess…" And she had, in every sense.

"What had you so distracted that you completely forgot you were riding?" he asked, bewildered.

She condemned the blush that rushed to her cheeks, as it was a dead giveaway. Without her even speaking he had all the answers. She could see it on his face as he realized exactly what had happened, but besides that his expression remained unchanged.

An awkward silence followed. She could feel the anger in her giving way to fear. She had never had any broken bones before, and she hated the doctor. She didn't want to be poked or prodded or examined. She didn't want to lie in bed for weeks and weeks, or wear a cast, or be subjected to constant attention. She wished she could just say here and forget about it.

"I really think I'm fine," she said again, hoping that he would just accept her word. He did not look convinced.

"I know," he said, "just like you were fine when you almost got your foot caught in the stirrup a moment ago."

She frowned, her brow knitting involuntarily. She was so close to giving in to her humiliated tears, but that would do no good at all, so she fought against the urge as hard as possible. She nestled against him as they entered the stable, finding a little comfort in the feeling of his arms around her. He hopped off his horse. The sudden jolt to the ground seemed to jiggle her brain around and the world around her began dancing again. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, frustrated.

They were at the infirmary in no time. Stayne was barking orders at the nearby maids and nurses, and then suddenly dozens of people were all around her and she was being set in an uncomfortable cot. He, of course, was shooed out of her room and she was left alone. Someone pulled off her coat, another grabbed her torso and squeezed her skin, checking for breaks, another examined her head, another examined her legs. Nobody seemed puzzled at her not wearing a corset. In the back of her mind, she wondered what Stayne had thought when he had discovered it himself. Her stomach gave an uncomfortably pleasant flutter as she remembered his hand running down her back, his breath warm against her neck as he reached around her…

She was ascertained as having no breaks or head injuries, although she had managed to give her ankle a mild strain when she tried to mount her horse. They recommended she stay in bed until it was healed, but she decided to ignore their advice. She had had many sprained ankles as a child, being the rowdy, adventurous girl she was, and she had recovered just fine without fussy bed rest.

Besides, she hadn't even had tea yet, and she was looking forward to that now more than ever.


	3. Teatime

So I lied. I was about three fourths of the way through this chapter when the plot bunnies attacked. Viciously. It was a total bloodbath.

If you read my multi-chapter Beetlejuice story, you probably already know that I have a bad habit of writing before I've thought the story through, which happened again here (Although, granted, I hadn't really intended this story to be multi-chapter until now). Seeing as I've got the ideas, I'm going to write them down, but I'm a bit wary of the first two chapters, which now don't have anything to do with the big picture. So yeah, it's all a bit confusing.

And yes, I am still a total n00b author. XD This is why I don't write books to be published.

Anyway... my mind's all a bit fuzzy at the moment. I've been busy, but hopefully that didn't have too much of an effect on my writing... I'm actually quite fond of this chapter. :P As always, feel free to point out anything off. I will admit with no shame that I've never read the books, so I know my Wonderland/Underland geography is probably off (Although you don't need to mention that putting one's elbows on the table is bad manners. I am already aware of this ;P).

Sorry for the rambling A/N! D: I do not own anything! Lewis Carrol and Tim Burton do!

* * *

"Mallymkun?"

Alice stared at Stayne in puzzlement, her teacup paused in its ascent to her lips, and then she began laughing.

They sat in the big white kitchen together, right by the window. He had been quite surprised when she had announced that she was still hoping to take tea with him, but he couldn't exactly say he was disappointed. However, when she reported to him that she had sprained her ankle, he had tried to insist that she sit down while he prepared the tea. She did not agree, and they argued for a bit until they came to the agreement that they should do it together, even though it was already so little work for one person to do.

When the tea was ready they sat down and Alice immediately asked him about talking horses, which she said she had not known about until today (Although after talking about it some, she decided that she should have figured they existed, what with all the other talking animals she had encountered). This somehow led to him, and whether or not he had ever encountered one before. He had told her that yes, he had, and then out of the blue she asked how he had lost his eye. The topic was so suddenly introduced that it made him hesitate, leading to a bit of awkwardness from her, but he had assured her that he did not mind talking about it.

"It was that little rat," he told her.

"Rat?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, that wretched little dormouse the White Queen keeps around."

"You mean Mallymkun? _Mallymkun_ ripped your eye out?" She stared at him, teacup in hand, and then burst into laughter. He stared at her, brow furrowed. She got a hold of herself and set her tea down on its saucer, and was about to speak when he interrupted.

"It is a bit pathetic, isn't it?" he asked, his dignity a little bruised. No great war story, no amazing fight… just a dormouse.

"No, no!" she said, wringing her hands and shaking her head. "Not at all! No, I was just laughing because… well, I should have seen it before!" He didn't believe her, and apparently it showed on his face, because she got very serious. "I'm not laughing at you," she told him. She looked away and picked up her cup with both hands, leaning her elbows on the table and staring into it. "It really is awful. I'm sorry."

He watched her, his gaze traveling down the curve of her arms to her hands, to her fingers as they flexed around the handle of her cup. She readjusted herself, looking troubled. She was really quite pretty when she was troubled.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She paused, then looked up at him. "I was wondering…" she mumbled, trying to find her words. "I was… I was wondering what happened to the Red Queen…?" She looked hesitant, almost embarrassed, as if she was afraid she had offended him. In truth, she had done nothing of the sort.

"She died," he said simply, taking a sip of his tea.

Her eyes went downcast, then away to the opposite side of the room. "Oh," she said, her voice quiet. It was surprising to think that since she had re-arrived here nobody had told her what had happened to Iracebeth, but evidently nobody had thought it that important. He had informed the White Queen of her death and, even through her carefully composed neutrality he could tell it had been a hard blow. She had even gone so far as to wear a grey shawl around the castle for a short time in mourning, although this was before Alice had arrived so she had no knowledge of it.

"I've no idea what killed her," he said, bringing her attention back to him. "One day I woke up and she was just… dead." He shrugged, keeping his gaze locked with hers as he spoke, which was much easier for him than it was for her. "After making sure she was dead, I cut off her hand so I could escape. I really did not fancy the idea of being chained up to a corpse… Especially hers…" He trailed off. She broke eye contact with him, looking down at her tea again in contemplation. He tipped his head, watching her closely.

"Do you ever--"

"No," he interrupted, not wanting to continue on the subject. Her lips parted as she looked up at him, something like pity rooted deep in her dark, beautiful eyes. His breath caught in his throat, taking in every detail of her features, her pretty face, her golden hair. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her lips against his, to feel her skin beneath his hands… But now would not be the most appropriate time. No, not yet. With one hand he clenched his fingers around the handle of his cup while the other slid over and positioned itself atop hers, patting it a few times.

"But that is a dismal subject," he said. He tried to pull away, but she grabbed him.

"Stayne," she said, staring at him. Whatever thoughts had been drifting through his head were replaced by a dull beating noise which steadily picked up speed every second that she maintained her soul-drilling gaze. It was almost unnerving, the intensity with which she was looking at him, almost like she could all his deepest, darkest secrets, all the nooks and crannies of his heart. His breathing became shallow, enthralled, perplexed, until she finally looked away and he had to mute the sudden gasp that wanted to escape him. She looked down at his hands, examining his skin with a silly lady-like propriety, even as her hands trembled against his, suggesting a desire to say something other than what actually came out of her mouth. "I would not blame you if you missed her."

He tried to keep it in, but he could not. He began laughing. She looked confused, almost offended, and began to draw away before he reached out and clasped her shoulders in his hands, shaking her back and forth slightly. "Alice!" he said through his laughter. "I really do not want to talk about Iracebeth any longer!"

He continued laughing, his insides shuddering and melting into jelly as he did so. He had thought he was amused by her insistence on maintaining the subject, but now all of the sudden dozens of emotions were rushing at him at once. He tried gritting his teeth to try and quiet himself, but it was no use. His heart ached like it had never ached before, like someone had punched him right in the chest with no remorse. He had no idea how to react to such a forceful invasion of feelings, memories, fantasies, so vivid and powerful and painful, except to laugh, and now his lungs were hurting.

He missed her. Of course he did. It was so hard to think about, so mortifying and almost unbearable, but her death had been a knife directly to his soul, and somehow it was so _hard_ to deal with, because he had to face up to the fact that he was utterly _terrified _without her. She had been a thorn in his side, yes, and he had in no way loved her, but she had also been the one to take him in and give him a job, lodgings, food, and entangle herself so deeply in his life without his even realizing it, and now he didn't know what he would do with himself. He feared he would go crazy without someone to tell him what to do, where to go, without someone who needed him almost as much as he had needed her, and he _hated_ to admit it. It made his blood boil to think about his silly attachment to her. He had hated her, he had hated what she'd done to him and what she'd put him through, and yet still she had had an iron grip on him, and now she was just_ gone_.

Suddenly Alice's hands were on his face, forcing her to look up at him, jerking him back to the present. "Stayne," she asked, horror etched across her face, "get a hold of yourself!" He gasped for breath, tears streaming down his cheek from laughing so hard, and wiped his face with his palm. "What in Heaven's name is wrong with you?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, pulling away from her and trying to choke down the remaining laughter that threatened to escape him. She moved around the corner of the table and kneeled down on his bench.

"Stayne! Good Lord, should I call a doctor?" she cried.

"Alice, I am fine!" he insisted. Unable to resist any longer, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him over, squeezing him tightly. He felt his breath escape him, his laughter cease, his thoughts sliding awkwardly from Iracebeth to Alice. He seized the moment and wrapped his arms around her back, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. She was warm and soft, her hand on the back of his neck causing his skin to burn. He shuddered, digging his shaking fingers into her dress and pulling her into him, as far as he could, reveling in her affection, and she gave him one final squeeze before pulling away.

"I didn't realize I was so funny," she said, smiling a bit. He scoffed as she sat down, pulling her tea over to her.

"Yes, well, something just hit me, I suppose…" he muttered. She looked at him questioningly, but he ignored it. She took a sip of her tea. He slid across the bench until their hips were pressed together, tired of tip-toeing around in propriety. It was obvious that she didn't really care for it much more than he did, so he had no idea why she even bothered, and she did not object. He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table to stare into his cup. A moment later, Alice hesitantly slid her arm through his and mimicked his position. He turned and smiled at her, and she just smiled down into her tea, her skin a bright pink.

Eventually their moment was interrupted by the White Queen who, without warning, drifted her way in and called for him. It surprised him so much that he stood up and banged his knees into the table, causing both cups of tea to tip over.

"Yes, your majesty?" he asked, standing up straight. She eyed them each in turn, sending a rather awkward feeling crawling down his back. Finally she sighed.

"We have a visitor," she said. "Come. You as well, Alice. I have a feeling you will find the identity of this visitor very surprising."

He looked at Alice, whose expression was blank. She glanced up at him, but he could only shrug before turning and heading for the White Queen. She followed, having to run to keep up with him.

"What happened this time?" he asked.

"She managed to get as far the entrance way before someone caught her. They mistook her as a thief, although I do not believe she means any harm," she said, walking surprisingly fast for her height.

"She?" he repeated. "She is a woman, then?"

"Indeed." She glanced back at him with a pointed look, as though reading his thoughts. His stomach turned itself into so tight a knot he thought he might keel over. She could not possibly be talking about… No, she wouldn't. Surely she would know that Iracebeth would be furious at him if she found out that he was working for the White Queen now, and Mirana was too thoughtful to put him in such danger… right? He could not stand to face her now. Not now… He pinched his lips together, slowing his pace as Alice fell into a quick, almost running step beside him, just the simple feeling of her beside him making it all a little easier.

They reached the main courtyard where a small group of soldiers were gathered around their prisoner. Stayne took the lead, needing to take only a few steps to get in front of the Queen and Alice.

"Break it up, break it up!" he shouted, waving his hands. The soldiers parted and scattered until there were only two left, holding tightly to their prisoner, who was thrashing about like mad. She was wearing a dark, ratted cloak that seemed to have been quite pretty before, although it was now half its original length and ripped to shreds. Stayne took a breath of relief upon seeing that she was not, in fact, the Red Queen, but someone who he did not recognize at all.

"This is no way to treat a lady!" she was screaming. "Let me go! I just want to see Alice!"

He leaned down and yanked her cloak off, revealing a disheveled blonde girl who seemed to be just a few years older than Alice herself. She glared up at him, and then paled, obviously intimidated by his height and, well, probably everything else about him. She looked around like a frightened rabbit, eyes flitting around the courtyard wildly until they landed on Alice, who had slowed to a stop somewhere behind him.

"A… Alice!" she cried.

"Margaret?" Alice asked in disbelief. He turned to her, but she had turned to the White Queen, who raised an eyebrow. Alice turned back around and ran as fast as she could over to the prisoner, who was apparently Margaret. Stayne waved his hand and the soldiers released her. Alice stopped a few feet away, but Margaret tackled her and instantly broke down into tears.

"Alice, thank God! I thought I would never find you!" she sobbed. Alice pulled away, her hands on Margaret's shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I… foll… I followed you," Margaret gasped, looking around the courtyard at the assorted riff-raff gathered there. "Where in the world are we?" she asked, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbing her cheeks with it. Her gaze traveled up Stayne again, lingering there before she looked back at Alice. He turned around and shrugged at the White Queen, who just furrowed her brow. She walked over and, before Margaret could get a very good look at her, swooped in between the two girls, separating them.

"You are in Underland, dear girl," Mirana said, doing a little spin to get herself facing Margaret. Margaret looked dumbstruck. "Alice, who is your friend?" There was a small, enigmatic smile on the Queen's lips, as if she already knew the answer.

"Oh, no, not friend," Alice corrected. "Margaret is my sister."

"Sister?" both the Queen and Stayne asked at the same time. Stayne set his jaw, thrown for a loop.

"Yes… Um… I… Margaret, this… is Mirana of Marmoreal, White Queen of Underland," Alice said, glancing past Mirana to Stayne, who raised his eyebrow.

"Queen?" Margaret squeaked, and then went into a low curtsy. "It is an honour, your majesty." The White Queen smiled.

"That man back there is Ilosovic Stayne, the head of the White Queen's guard," Alice said, giving him a small smile. It did not go unnoticed. Glancing between them, Margaret pulled her a few steps and continued to interrogate her about Underland, only to be interrupted by Mirana.

"I see you have had a rough time coming through Tulgey Wood. Come inside and have some tea. We also have very well-kept washrooms, if you'd like to wash up…" She turned and began walking towards the castle. Alice slid her arm through Margaret's, following after the Queen and assuring her that the washrooms were, in fact, very nice.

Stayne watched them after ordering the troops back to their places. Every now and again Margaret would glance back at him and then whisper to Alice, and then she would glance at him. Apparently, her gaze lingered just a little too long for Margaret's liking, as she would then divert Alice's attention to something completely off-topic, such as pointing out the mountains all the way to the east or inquiring after the type of stone they were walking on, and whenever Alice even dared to glance in his direction, Margaret would obscure her view.

He really did not like Margaret very much so far.


	4. A bit of a Shift

Whoa nelly, two chapters in two days! I'm on a roll here! :P In this chapter I decided to try my hand at some Underland slang (Just one word), but I'm not sure if it's used in the right context... You'll know it when you see it, haha. XD

Not much to say, weirdly enough, since I usually always ramble on and on... :P Oh, I got it! We got Florence and the Machine's album _Lungs _the other day and it is really fantastic. I've been listening to it nonstop. I recommend it to everybody.

I don't own anything. Lewis Carrol and Tim Burton do!

* * *

Alice turned from the window to her bed, where Margaret was sitting, rifling through the pages of a small book. She watched, her brow knit, while Margaret just shook her head.

"This is nonsense!" she said, closing the book. Alice walked over and sat down on the bed beside her sister, her eyes scanning the page.

"No, it's not," she said, reading through it. "It's very sensible if you know how they speak around here."

"And you do?" Margaret asked, tipping her head. Alice blushed, looking away.

"Well, I…"

"How long have you been coming here, Alice? How long were you planning on staying here?" Margaret asked, slipping her hands around Alice's. Alice drew her brows together, glaring hard at the bed covers, bracing for the storm that would surely come.

"I was planning on staying here forever."

"Alice, you can't!" Margaret cried, cupping Alice's face in her hands and pulling it upwards to face her. Alice pulled away, stepping backwards off the bed and clinging to a post of the footboard.

"Margie, you cannot tell me what to do," she said, more disappointed than angry. She had hoped that her sister would be understanding of her choice, but apparently that was just too much to ask for.

"But what about mother? What shall I tell her?"

"Nothing."

"And your friends?"

"I have much truer friends here."

"You can't be serious."

"I am perfectly serious," Alice said, frowning, hoping her tone would end the argument. But still Margaret persisted, crawling forward towards her with a pleading look on her face. Alice had to fight to contain her anger. She knew her sister cared for her and was only trying to do what she felt was right, even if her methods were a bit… old-fashioned in Alice's eyes. She should have been happy that Alice was growing up and becoming an independent, successful young lady, but still it was not enough for Margaret.

"But what about getting married, Alice? If what I saw in that forest is what these people are like, then there is surely no one suitable for you."

Alice stepped away from the bed completely, fighting the thoughts that threatened to invade her mind, the things she wanted to say. How could Margaret possibly know who was suitable for her, and why was it any of her business, anyway? Against her will, even though she fought so hard against it, her thoughts shifted to Stayne, but this time Margaret was a blessing, interrupting her before she could go any further.

"Alice…" she said. "You haven't… fallen in love with anyone here, have you?"

Alice stared at her, her mind at a blank, like someone had shoved a crowbar into the inner workings of her mind and jammed it up. Slowly, she shook her head.

"No, of course not," she said, beginning to laugh despite herself. Margaret did not look convinced, though she did relax a bit. Alice remained where she was, pushed up against the dresser, her forced laughter fading out into silence and replaced with an awkward, tense silence. "Being married is not that important."

"Then what is?"

"Being happy with who you are and what you choose to do with your life," Alice replied, words spilling out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. Margaret stepped off the bed and took a hesitant step towards Alice, who attempted to step back but just bumped against the dresser again.

"Wouldn't you be happy to be married?"

"Yes. I would," Alice replied, slipping under her sister's hands as she attempted to set them on her shoulders. "But that is not a main objective of mine at the moment… and it won't be until I am certain I have found the right man." She glared at Margaret, taking a small step back towards the door.

"But, Alice… What's so wrong with London?"

"I had no freedom there!" she cried. "We women are supposed to wear layers and layers of clothing every day no matter how hot or uncomfortable it is, and we cannot do anything! I have done things here that would have been an embarrassment in London, and let me tell you, Margaret, I do not regret it!" Margaret looked horrified. Alice continued, her anger draining out of her as she spoke. "Everyone here speaks equally, friends are friends, no matter the gender or class, and we all help each other out, and we all do things together. Underland is by far superior to London, and I feel sorry for you if you do not believe me!"

There was a long silence. Alice's chest heaved up and down as she tried to compose herself, gather her feelings and lock them away. Margaret had not deserved that… No. She was just acting as she had been raised to, as they had both been raised to, and there was nothing wrong with that.

"I'm sorry, Margaret," Alice mumbled. Margaret was silent. Alice sighed, relaxing, stepping towards her sister and hugging her. To her relief, Margaret returned her embrace. "I do not want to argue with you… I'm sorry. Good night." Without waiting for Margaret to interrupt her, she headed for the door and opened it, engulfing herself in the darkness outside the bedroom.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the cold, crisp air of the hallway. She could not go back to London. She _would not_ go back to London. Taking another deep breath, she ran for her bedroom.

----

The morning found Alice in a slightly better mood, to her relief. She went to fetch Margaret and escort her to breakfast, as most everything about the castle spooked the elder Kingsleigh daughter at the moment.

Breakfast times varied for everybody in the castle, and at the moment Alice and Margaret walked into the dining room to find Tarrant talking casually to Nivens while dipping a doughnut into his morning tea. Margaret stepped a little closer to Alice, although she did not seem surprised. She must have run into a few talking on animals on her way here.

Upon spotting them, Tarrant hopped out of his chair and pulled out a few different chairs for them to choose from. "Good morning, Alice," he said, bowing. She gave a little curtsy before sitting down next to Nivens. Margaret sat down next to her. "Who is this?" Tarrant continued, sitting on the table and gesturing towards Margaret. Margaret looked appalled at his manners, drawing back a bit. "She looks a bit… mmm, how do I say this… gallymoggers!"

Margaret looked offended, although of course she had no idea what he had called her. Alice set a biscuit, some jam, and some coffee on the table in front of her. "Tarrant, this is Margaret. She's my sister. Margaret, this is Tarrant Hightopp. He is the hatter for the White Queen."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Margaret," he said, taking her hand and bowing over it. Margaret was silent, unsure of what to say as she looked him up and down. "If I could offer a bit of advice," he said, leaning towards her, "this is the part where you say 'likewise'."

Margaret swallowed. "L… Likewise," she said quietly. He nodded, hopped off the table, and walked back to his chair. Alice grinned, offering Margaret a biscuit.

Breakfast passed in anything but silence as more people and animals and creatures showed up to join in the eating. With each passing moment she could see Margaret getting more and more tired of Tarrant but trying her hardest to be polite. Alice would have been amused as the ruckus around the table grew, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She glanced up at the nearest clock. It was already nine o' clock and…

A sudden crash from Margaret's direction snapped her attention to the seat beside her. Everyone had fallen silent as shards from a poor crumbled teacup came to rest everywhere except Margaret, who was dripping with tea and looking absolutely revolted. The group's gaze shifted across the table to the March Hare, who was giggling slightly. Looking around, Alice spotted a few other people who were trying to hold back their laughter, and she felt a bit bubble up inside her, as well. Margaret pushed her chair away from the table with such force that it instantly silenced any and all laughter, then stood up and strode away, followed by a cacophony of cackling.

Alice stood up and ran after her, biting her lip to silence her own laughter as she thought about what must have happened. She caught up to Margaret fairly quickly, falling into step beside her.

"Margie, they don't mean any harm," she said.

"Really, Alice? That… that _maniac_ just threw a porcelain teacup at my head!" Margaret hissed, rounding on her sister. Alice shrunk back, a bit shocked at her sister's mood, but she supposed she should have figured. Her sister wasn't used to being in Underland, after all. "I am going to go wash up…" She turned and continued down the hall without another word. Alice watched her go, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She glanced back down the hall towards the dining room, where the laughter was beginning to quiet. She ran back down the hall, took a biscuit and a cup of coffee without anyone noticing, and then ran off in the direction that Margaret had gone, passing her and continuing on in search of Stayne.

Eventually she found him outside on a small balcony of the second story, his back turned to her. She surveyed him for a moment. His hands were behind his back as he surveyed something below. She walked up beside him, leaning on the balustrade.

"Good morning," she said.

He turned his body towards her and bowed, his eyes never leaving the scene down on the ground. She followed his gaze, where the White Queen was conversing with a soldier, looking quite serious about whatever she was talking about.

"I wonder what she is telling him that she cannot tell the Head of Security," he grumbled, turning and leaning against the balustrade. Cautiously, she held out the biscuit and coffee, which he took with a look of slight surprise.

"You didn't come to breakfast," she said. "Although I can see why. Have they been down there long?"

He nodded, examining his breakfast. "Indeed…" he said. "She knows I am up here." She looked down. Mirana looked up at her, then at Stayne, her gaze lingering on him for a long moment before returning to the soldier in front of her. A cold breeze picked up and, shuddering, Alice moved to his side, hoping to block the wind with his body. He took a sip of the coffee.

"Evidently whatever she is telling him is not so important that you need to know," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "You should be thankful."

He glared at the ground. "I suppose I should be… but I feel she is hiding something," he said.

"What in the world would the White Queen have to hide from you?" she asked, looking up at him. He shrugged.

"I've no idea, but just look at her. She's not herself."

Alice peered over her shoulder to the White Queen again, and suddenly it hit her. The Queen's arms. They were lowered to almost half the height she usually held them at, and that in itself was odd. Maybe she didn't realize she was even doing it, but Alice somehow doubted that.

She turned back around. She had just as little of an idea about their conversation as he did, so there was really nothing that she could say to reassure him… She did wonder why he was so bothered by it, though she decided against asking him. He seemed to be agitated enough and she did not want to appear nosy.

"How is your sister?" he asked, a bit of an edge to his voice, taking a bite of the biscuit. She shrugged slightly, sighing.

"Very… unhappy." He scoffed, but remained silent. "She has really taken a disliking to Underland… She wants…" She trailed off, catching herself. He looked down at her, his eye dark and cold, the total opposite of what she had seen yesterday.

"She wants…?"

She bit her lip, inwardly scolding herself. She had said too much… Well, he _had_ caught her, so she might as well confess. "She wants me to go back to London," she said, watching him. His fingers tightened around the handle of his cup, just for a moment, before he relaxed. He swallowed, his expression unreadable.

"And you? What do you want?"

"I never want to go back to London," she said, her insides simmering at the mere thought of it. "There's… I like it here." The corners of his lips twisted upwards a bit as he looked at the wall opposite them, drinking the last of the coffee. She grinned, hunching her shoulders against the breeze and taking one big step towards him, pressing her side against his. He leaned back and set his hands on the balustrade, his fingers brushing over her knuckles briefly before retreating.

The butterflies that had been idle for so long in her stomach began fluttering around again, as if trying to escape, accompanied by a sweet heat rushing up her neck. The thought of her attraction to Ilosovic Stayne was almost too awkward to think about, but she had been resisting thinking about it ever since that night in the hallway when it had first made itself apparent. Try as she might, she couldn't place the exact reason she was so nervous to let this progress and ended up chalking it up to the fact that he had worked for the Red Queen last time she had seen him, but if Mirana trusted him enough to not only relieve him from exile but also take him in as the Head of Security, then she obviously saw something in him. The question was: Why couldn't Alice trust him, as well? She wanted to. He was, after all, one of her more sane friends -- and he was her friend, whether she had noticed it before or not. Yes, he was her friend… Why couldn't she let him be something more? She cast an experimental glance up at him right as he looked down at her, and instantly her mind screamed at her to pull away.

She ignored it.

A moment later, he had raised his hand and placed it on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin and leaving it burning despite the cold breeze still forcing itself on her. Her breathing became shallow, her heart pounding so hard she was afraid it would burst right out of her chest. Her mind raced in a thousand different directions as she tilted her head up towards him, resisting with every fiber of her being the scared little voice inside that told her to get away, that this could end badly. After just a moment of hesitation, he pushed her hair behind her ear and leaned towards her. She held her breath, feeling as though she might explode from anticipation…

"Stayne." The White Queen's voice interrupted them. Alice felt a fresh wave of rosy blush colour her cheeks, but this time it was of the most uncomfortable variety. Stayne pulled away from her, his heat leaving her as he stood up straight and faced the Queen. "I need to talk to you."

Stayne glanced down at Alice, who hoped against hope that a hole would open up and swallow her whole. In the back of her mind she wondered if she would ever be able to face him again without an unbearable awkwardness settling over their meeting. He blinked a few times, then nodded.

"Yes, majesty," he said. "Alice." He bowed a bit, then followed the Queen inside, leaving an embarrassed Alice alone on the balcony to her jumbled thoughts.


	5. Tiresome

I'm going to go see Alice in Wonderland again tomorrow, and then I am going to write a story where Stayne is totally in character. Until then, I'm just going to quietly continue this one... :P

Lewis Carrol/Tim Burton own all this stuff! Not me! :O

* * *

Stayne followed closely after the White Queen, his thoughts lingering on Alice. He had been so close… Only a second more and their lips would have touched… He felt a rush when he thought about it, fighting the urge to turn and look back at her as he walked away. Sometimes he believed the White Queen must plan her interruptions at the most inopportune moments, as that was always when she barged in… at least for him.

Alice remained the forefront of his thoughts, her expression as he leaned towards her burned into his mind, all of the tenderness and girlish fragility that she tried to hide evident there. She had been nervous, scared, hesitant, and it had all been right there on the surface, yet still she was going to trust him, to let him in just that little bit… and then the rug had been pulled out from under them, and now she was just standing out there, her thoughts a mystery to him.

The White Queen ushered him into a small receiving room, closing the door after he had come in. It was silent and dark in here compared to the rest of the castle, being away from windows, even though it was made up of the same white marble as most of the other rooms. He turned towards her, all business, only to find her staring at him from the closed doors, her arms at her sides and an airy, serious look on her face. He felt a strange chill crawl down his back. Suddenly she smiled, just a bit.

"Margaret is not supposed to be here," she said, slipping her hands behind her back. He raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. "Of course, I am sure she will be put back to her right place soon enough, but I…" She looked down at the floor, collecting her thoughts before looking back up at him. "I fear Alice may go with her."

He furrowed his brow. "You fear she may?" he asked. "Shouldn't you know? Why not check the Oraculum?"

He thought he caught a flicker of fear in her dark eyes as he mentioned the Oraculum, but she turned her back on him, tipping her head to the side. "Stayne, you know what the Oraculum could do to a person… So much knowledge could drive someone mad." She turned back to him, looking a bit amused. "Not that we aren't already mad here, of course… But I… I just don't like to look at it. It feels as though I'm cheating."

He took a step towards her, putting his hand out. "It was created to look at," he said, a bit annoyed. "And even Alice were to leave Underland, why are you so concerned about it?"

She smiled, closing her eyes as her brow knit. She really was beautiful, although not very many people in Underland knew that as she rarely left the castle. "I'm not concerned," she said. "Very little would change if she left. I was just… letting you know. Don't think your attachment to her has gone unnoticed. Should she decide to leave yet again, you will have to be okay with her decision."

"She told me she hated London," he said, shrugging, not feeling very concerned, either. He could not tell what the White Queen was getting at, but she seemed to be genuinely interested in his feelings… Although, then again, he could never be sure what she was interested in. She was much harder to read than Iracebeth had been.

"I am sure she does. But then again, she hated you, as well, at one point," she said. He realized her point, but still he did not feel any more alarmed than before. He was confident that Alice would remain in Underland. Hating a person and hating a location were two entirely different things.

The White Queen sighed, her hands lifting into the air as usual, and took a step backwards towards the door. "If you think about it, Alice belongs to that other world just as much as her sister does. We belong to this world. Really, we should not be able to co-exist…" She opened the door and dropped her voice down to almost a whisper, not wanting to be overheard. "Of course, on the other hand, I also believe that one can choose where one belongs." She smiled at him. "I just thought that you should know. Just in case." She spun around and left the room without another word, leaving Stayne feeling a little more than confused and wondering what in the world she had even been talking about. She had started out so dismal, yet decided to end on a note of hope? Did she believe Alice was going to leave or not? And if that was all she had to tell him, why had she bothered coming to a seldom used little room for sixty seconds? He sighed, shaking his head. Maybe it had all just been for show, but the Queen was certainly an enigma.

He walked out into the hall and glanced around, spotting the train of the Queen's dress disappearing down a nearby hallway. He made his way back to the balcony where he had left Alice, only to find that she was gone. He glanced around. The empty coffee cup was also gone, as well as any traces of their almost-moment.

He suddenly realized what the White Queen had meant.

----

"So… you're the Head of Security, then?" Margaret asked, looking at him from over her teacup. He looked up from the meager newspaper that had been tossed carelessly on the table and over at her, praying for patience as he prepared to begin what he hoped was a short conversation.

"Yes. I am," he answered, taking a sip of his tea and glancing back at the newspaper. It wasn't a very interesting article, and he had never been one for reading, anyway, but he had hoped that if he looked busy she wouldn't try to talk to him. Obviously it had failed.

"Forgive me if I seem forward," she said, blushing, "but I have never met anyone as tall as you before…"

"Oh," he said, not caring. She bit her lip, and he could see a resemblance to Alice as she did so.

"How did you, er… get so tall?" she asked, stumbling on her words as they came out. He turned and stared at her, taking the last sip of his tea.

"I was born like this," he said, leaving the interpretation up to her as he stood up. "Have you seen Alice around?"

"Why do you ask?" she asked, becoming a bit defensive all of the sudden.

"Because the Queen has asked me to relate some information to her," he said, giving her a tired look. What was so hard about just telling him? She set her teacup on the table but didn't let go of it, her eyes set on him.

"I haven't seen her lately," she admitted. He groaned and turned away from her, striding down the hallway in no particular direction, eager to just get away from her. When she ran up and appeared beside him, he had to swallow the irritated scream that wanted to erupt out of him. "I hope you don't mind if I join you. I've been looking for her, as well."

"No… No, not at all…" he said. He would have told her straight out how he really felt, except that he didn't want Alice to hear that he had. She followed in silence, but he kept catching her glancing up at him. He could read her like a book, even using nothing but his peripheral vision. She did not trust him one bit, and it was obvious that she was only coming with him for her sister's sake, like she was afraid he was going to do something unspeakable to Alice. Of course she probably just wanted to protect Alice, being her older sister, and he did look quite intimidating, but had he wanted to force himself upon Alice, he would have probably tried long ago. At the moment he did not feel such a desire, and he hadn't for quite a few months.

Actually, he had had no initial attraction to Alice. She had been so much better as Um, he had thought. She was so… small, now. She was just the opposite of what he usually liked. But then they had run into each other a few times, and the look she would give him was so mystifying… She remembered him, she remembered that night in the Red Queen's castle. She may have hated him for it, but she _remembered_ it. They had a bit of a history. Not a pretty one, nor a pleasant one, nor a long one, but it was there. It had been pushed into motion, and neither of them had had a mind to stop it.

And then he had discovered more and more about her. She sometimes liked to wear pants, or wear her hair down, unlike almost all of the women in Underland. She liked to climb trees and trudge around in the mud and swordfight. She was enthralling, despite that she was so unlike what he preferred. She was… attractive.

"So…" Margaret began, interrupting him, taking almost three steps for each one of his, "How long have you been working for the… White Queen?"

"About six months," he answered.

"Oh? Do you like it?"

"Indeed."

"Does anything interesting happen?"

"Not very often."

"I see… Well, that's good, I suppose."

"I suppose so."

They rounded a nearby corner. He felt confident that he was getting closer to Alice, and if this wasn't where she was then he had other ideas. He knew where she liked to spend her time, just like she knew where he spent his. It had not been intentionally planned, but they had passed each other enough that it just began sticking. He did not have a problem with it.

His route came to an end just outside the castle. There was a small covered courtyard which sat by a little pond where Alice usually liked to feed ducks – both talking and non-talking. At the moment it was empty. He pinched his lips together, cycling through to the next place she could be and continuing on, hoping that it hadn't been too obvious that he had been expecting her to be there. Unfortunately, Margaret was more perceptive than he thought.

"Was she supposed to be here?" she asked, sounding half amused and half suspicious.

"No," he said. "I don't know where she is."

She said nothing, but the air about her had changed somewhat. He couldn't place it, but it somehow just annoyed him further. The next few places he passed were empty, as well, much to his surprise. He became a little more aware as he continued that he was supposed to be on duty, but he was eager to see Alice and gauge her reaction to him now that they had shared what had been so close to a kiss. Would she be awkward? Would she act like it had never happened? Would she address it right off? He had questions that needed answers, besides, although they would have to wait until his little tag-a-long was not present.

After a while they ran into Tarrant, who was carrying rolls of fabric under his arms and looking like he was off on another planet, probably planning his next hat. Stayne stopped him, anyway.

Tarrant and Stayne still did not get along very well. The hatter held a grudge unlike anyone Stayne had ever met besides Iracebeth, but treated him with more sarcasm and flippancy than actual hatred. Stayne, for his part, could only think of being sprayed in the eyes with perfume when he looked at Tarrant. Still, he would at least try to act civil since they both had to share the castle.

"Hatter," Stayne called. Tarrant stopped, but remained silent, his eyes sliding over to look at Stayne. "Have you seen Alice about lately?"

Tarrant licked his lips, looking at the ground in contemplation before speaking. "She told me she was going for a walk," he said.

"A walk?" Stayne asked blankly. "Did she tell you where?"

"Yes," Tarrant said, raising his eyebrows.

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"What?" Stayne closed his eye, holding back the urge to strangle the hatter. "You just said that she told you."

"I said no such thing!"

"Actually, you did."

"I think you must have imagined that," Tarrant said, smiling at Stayne as though _he_ was the mad one. Stayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why don't you tell me where Alice is? Now."

"I've already told you, you frumious old bat… I do not know. Now, if you'd excuse me…" Stepping around Stayne, he continued on his way, humming casually as if nothing had happened. Stayne turned around and faced Margaret, who looked confused.

"Apparently she is not here," he said.

"Indeed," she replied. She shrugged. "I suppose I'll just wait for her somewhere nearby…"

"I hope you have a jolly time," he said dryly. "If you will excuse me, I should be getting to my duties…" He bowed and walked away, not caring if she excused him or not. She didn't object, but he could feel her eyes burning into his back as he left.

"Are you in love with my sister?" she asked suddenly, causing him to stop and wonder what in the world had prompted her to say that. Slowly, his mind creaked into motion.

He had tried to resist it. She was so completely the opposite of what he liked. He had tried to remind himself that she was too small, too young, too naïve, but again and again he came up with more good things than bad about her, and then he had had to face the fact that all the good things were, indeed, very good. She had cast some spell over him by just being herself, just existing. He had tried to fight, tried to reason with himself, but now he realized it had been in vain.

He supposed he should have realized it long ago, that what he thought of her and what he thought of other ladies differed in the extreme, and the things he felt and thought and desired were things exclusively for Alice… But somehow, it had never struck him.

He turned around and faced Margaret, looking her straight in the eyes and giving her a quiet smile.

"No," he lied.


	6. Dizzy

It might take a bit of time for me to finish the next chapter... I am so tired. :O Anyway... Went to see Alice in Wonderland for the second time yesterday... The theater was almost empty! But at least we had the whole place to ourselves! :P

This chapter is the shortest one so far... It's been a long time since I've written a multi-chapter story and, while that is no excuse, I'm sorry for the poor pacing. I've got to get back into the groove of things!

Lewis Carrol/Tim Burton own everything!

* * *

Alice pulled her boot out of the mud, turning and glancing back at the castle. The wind had picked up a bit and turned icy, but she had made sure to bundle up and was not really affected. Out here in the silence she was clear-headed, away from all the distractions and free to explore her own mind of her own accord, however many times she wanted.

She was afraid to meet Stayne again. She would have stayed on the balcony and waited for him, but her embarrassment and anxiety had overpowered her. She had not been able to bear it, or the thought of him returning. She had not been able to think of what would have happened… Would he have tried to kiss her again? And if so, would she have been able to let him?

She sighed, sitting down on a dry bit of land by a tree and huddling up. She didn't know how many more of these deep inner conflicts she could take. They were beginning to take a toll on her mental wellbeing. She wished that she could just make a decision about Stayne and stick to it without going back and forth, trustful then distrustful, happy then unhappy, in love then--

She backpedaled desperately, a shudder racing down her back. No. What she felt for Stayne could not be love. What her mother and father had had was love, a quiet but passionate love. What she felt for Stayne was fascination manifesting itself in a nonsensical curiosity, a _desire_ to love, but not love… She hung her head, resting her forehead against her knees, lamenting her paper-thin explanation. Her head ached, her heart ached, her limbs ached… She wanted to reach inside herself and pull out her brain and shake it to loosen up all of the unnecessary thoughts. Maybe then she would be able to think straight and not run around in mental circles.

She looked up at the castle, the wind stinging her eyes. It was getting quite cold now. She wondered if she could get back inside and avoid running into Stayne long enough to get to her bedroom. Then she would be safe and warm, left alone to grieve for her apparently decaying knowledge of her own heart.

She stood up and began the long walk back, her boots feeling heavier than ever before.

----

"How are we getting home, Alice?" Margaret asked, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling, her hands on her stomach. Alice, who was sitting next to her and pretending to read a book, looked up, grateful for the interruption.

"We?" she asked.

Her sister looked at her, her eyes dark. "I… Well… You're still intent on staying here, then?" she asked quietly. Alice closed the book.

"Leaving has never crossed my mind, I assure you," she said, a bit confused and annoyed that Margaret was still trying to pressure her into going back to London. "Why do you want me to go back to London with you so badly? What's wrong with Underland?"

Margaret sighed. "It's not… It's not _real_, Alice," she said.

"Not real? It's just as real as you and I! You should know, you're right here!"

"No, I mean… There's no life for you here. It's a fantasyland. There's no structure, no purpose… What are you supposed to do in a place where there is nothing to be done?"

Alice stared at her in disbelief. She had only been here two days and she was already making assumptions about the economy? "Nothing to be done?" she asked, laughing. "Margie, I've done plenty! You wouldn't believe me if I told you!"

"Oh, really? Let's see."

Alice thought about it for a moment, trying to decide which of the many things she had done to tell Margaret about. Finally she decided on the most spectacular. If Margaret was going to disapprove of whatever Alice told her, than she might as well choose the most impressive event that came to her mind.

"I killed the Jabberwocky!" she said with a little more enthusiasm than was necessary. Margaret looked at her as though she had just announced that she was a man, and the silence lasted several seconds before she began laughing.

"What in Heaven's name is a Jabberwocky?" she asked.

Alice lifted herself to her knees and put out her arms, trying to seem big. "The Jabberwocky, dear sister, was a giant, horrifying monster. It had an ugly face and a long neck and a lizard's body. It was at least twenty feet tall, and it was under the control of the horrible Red Queen… But I killed it. I cut off its head. I didn't think I could, but I did." She put her hands on her hips. Margaret just stared at her.

"You… killed it?" she asked, sitting up. Alice nodded.

"Yes. It would have killed everyone else if I hadn't," she said.

"Alice… Are you sure you didn't dream this?"

Alice crossed her arms, frowning. "Just because you didn't see it doesn't mean it didn't happen," she said. Margaret sighed.

"I suppose so."

As much as Alice loved Margaret, she did not think that she could stand it if she stayed here. Besides, Margaret had a husband and children to get back to… even if Alice seethed to think about her going back to them. Margaret was a product of their upbringing, raised to believe that she was only supposed to get married and have children and do nothing fun. She had the same mindset as every other woman Alice had met… not that that was a bad thing, but now she was tied down to that no-good Nicholas because she had not waited to see if there was someone more suitable. She had been so eager to get married that she had gotten married to the wrong man, in Alice's opinion.

She thought of Stayne, then pulled away. Closing her eyes and laying down, she pushed towards the thought, no matter how much it scared her. To be married to Stayne? That was a bit far-fetched, yes, at the moment, although maybe eventually it could happen. She let the thought simmer, overtake and overpower her other thoughts. She grinned at the other thoughts that presented themselves to her, each one just as outrageous and silly and frightening as the previous.

"That Stayne fellow was looking for you earlier," Margaret said, lying down beside Alice. Alice's stomach lurched uncomfortably as she turned to face her sister.

"Oh?"

"He said he had some information that the White Queen… wanted him to pass on?" she said, trying to remember as she spoke.

"Oh," Alice mumbled, wondering what in the world she had missed. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't seen the White Queen since that morning, and she had purposely avoided Stayne out of nervousness, so it wasn't really a surprise, she supposed. "Well, I guess I'll have to find him tomorrow."

Margaret nodded, casting her eyes to the sheets. "Yes…" she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I… How _are_ we getting home?"

"Jabberwocky blood," Alice answered. "Vile stuff… But it will get you home."

"Again with the Jabberwocky," Margaret said, smirking. Alice wrinkled her nose in a grin, gently punching Margaret in the arm. Margaret giggled and grabbed Alice's hand, just holding it for a moment before nuzzling her cheek against it. "I'll miss you if you don't come with me."

Alice pinched her lips together. "You can still visit, you know," she said.

Margaret nodded, frowning, tears glistening in her eyes. "I guess. But it won't be the same. How will I write to you?"

Alice's brow furrowed. She had never really thought about if before, but now that Margaret mentioned it she wondered, as well. "I can ask the White Queen. If anyone were to know, she would."

Margaret shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Are you sure you won't come with me?" she asked, wiping her face with her sleeve. Alice grabbed her sister's head and pulled it towards her, kissing her forehead and closing her eyes.

"Margie, I can't," she said. "I love it here. I belong here. I would just be dismally unhappy in London."

Margaret nodded again. "I… I understand," she grumbled. Alice stroked her hair.

"I need to go to sleep," she said. "Please don't cry." She kissed Margaret's forehead again, then pulled away and stepped off the bed. Margaret sat up and sniffed, giving Alice a weak smile.

"Goodnight," she said.

"Goodnight," Alice replied. She smiled at her sister, then left the room, stopping outside to lean against the wall and take a deep breath, as deep as she could, closing her eyes, filling her lungs to bursting before letting it out, trying let all her cluttered thoughts out with it. She began the short walk back to her room but was quickly interrupted.

"Alice!" The voice was quiet, but just loud enough for her to hear. She turned around to find Stayne walking towards her. She contemplated running, but her legs wouldn't move.

"Hello," she said, and had barely gotten the word out before he reached her and, without warning, leaned down and kissed her with such fervor that it sent her reeling back a few steps. He followed after her, his hands on her face, until she had bumped up against a wall and could go no further.

She felt a rush of emotions so fast that it made her dizzy, the feeling of his lips against hers sending a riot of sensations through her body. As if on their own will, her hands went up to his hair, running through them, her heart racing a thousand miles an hour. He freed her lips to kiss her cheek, her eyelid, her nose, but she couldn't find the breath or the will to say anything, to object like she had thought she would want to. His lips left burning spots on her skin, as if lighting her very nerves on fire, but instead of feeling painful it was entirely pleasant. His lips were on hers again, lingering there for a few moments before pulling away.

"Your sister is a blasted nuisance," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers, his breathing ragged. Some part of her wanted to be offended, some part of her wanted to laugh, and the part of her that overwhelmed both of those didn't care one way or the other, her mind buzzing so loudly that she almost didn't hear him. "She's not going to drag you away with her, is she?" His words were slurred, his voice hoarse, a dark, almost dangerous tone underlying the obvious earnestness. She pushed away from him, her eyes fluttering open as she sobered up and meeting his. It was strange seeing him so close, seeing all the little details of his face that she had never noticed before.

"No, of course not," she said, wishing he would stop talking. For the first time all day not a thought was going through her head except for what was happening right then. No inner debate, no painful conflict, just caught up in the moment, and it felt _so good_. She didn't want him to start her mind back in motion. She wanted to stay right here, right in the present.

"Good," he said, grinning. She slid her arms around his shoulders and closed her eyes, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his.


	7. Lost in Thought

Whew! I had initially started this chapter from Alice's perspective, but that would have messed up the alternating POVs, so I had to start over! :O Luckily I hadn't written very much, so that made it better.

Fun-fact! Apparently, women didn't start shaving their legs until the early 1900s, but in the beginning of AiW when it is revealed that Alice isn't wearing stockings she has no hair on her legs! Go figure!

I still do not own Alice in Wonderland, or any of the characters. They still belong to Lewis Carrol/Tim Burton. -SIGH-

* * *

Stayne opened his eye, staring up at the ceiling. He pushed himself up, his bed creaking beneath him, and looked around, thoughts of Alice penetrating his cluttered mind. He could not remember with perfect clarity what had happened the previous night… He hadn't given it much thought, kissing her. He might have had something prepared to say, but the moment she had turned around and said hello it had all been lost. Fueled by single-minded determination, he had just wanted to kiss her, to wrap her in his arms and not let her go, to let her know exactly what he thought of her. It had been so extraordinary, her innocence standing in stark contrast to his expertise, gained by Iracebeth forcing herself upon him so many times and his own experimentations with some of the Queen's more attractive courtiers. Alice was new, inexperienced, his to take.

And take her he would.

He felt more for her than he had ever felt for anyone. It was almost uncomfortable. What had started out as another lustful desire had slowly altered into something far more complex, somehow without his notice. She possessed something that no other woman in Underland possessed, although it was quite hard to place. She had not just surrendered to him like most other women did. She had kept her emotions at a distance, behind a thin little veil, almost teasing him. It had made him want more. He'd wanted to learn about her, to explore her inner workings, to discover what made her tick… and somewhere along the line he had fallen head over heels like a lovesick fool.

He closed his eye, laying down spread eagle on the bed, and set his hand on his forehead. He had to gain control of himself. He had never been, and was not, and never would be, one to let his emotions better his rational mind. No matter what he felt for Alice he had to think of the bigger picture, of himself. Just because he felt such a strong draw to her didn't mean that he had to dote on her every second or follow her about like a puppy, and she probably did not expect him to. He had his own life and she had hers, and times apart, long or short, would not harm them.

He sighed and rolled onto his side, his thoughts at a standstill. His gaze shifted to the big wooden door, then to the cold marble floor, then to the thick red ribbon tied around his wrist, received from Alice the previous night. The exact moment it had transferred from her hair to his hand he did not remember, but he did remember her expression as she twisted it into a knot, her slender fingers fumbling and brushing his skin like feathers, her face flushed, her eyes glazed. He did not remember why she had given it to him, but he did not have any intention of removing it any time soon. It was easily hidden and could be just as easily displayed if he so wanted.

He climbed out of his bed, stretching, his limbs feeling like underused rubber bands. He pulled on his uniform, securely hiding Alice's ribbon under his glove, and wandered out of his room with no particular destination in mind. It was early – as he passed by the big windows in one of the gallery hallways he noticed that the sun hadn't even risen yet. As his shift did not start until later that afternoon, he decided to venture down to the training room. Of course he did not need the practice, per se, but he made the trip often, even if the only thing to gain was a clearer mind afterwards. And a clearer mind was something that he needed quite badly right now.

----

Stayne stared across the room at his adversary, a lowly scarecrow fashioned in the general shape of an average-sized man. It was not the most glamorous dummy, but it was surprisingly hardy and made very satisfying noises when he hacked at it with his sword. He began pacing, holding his sword diagonally across his chest and letting his thoughts wander. He was not here to hone his skills, so there was no reason to concentrate on formalities, rules, propriety, or respect. He was here to think.

He stepped forward and held his sword out, as if to touch it to his opponent's, then drew back and began pacing again. He thought about Margaret and instantly he felt a pang of annoyance somewhere in his shoulders. He hoped that she was planning on leaving soon. She asked far too many questions instead of just getting to know the world around her like her sister. There was a fine line between existing and living, and if Margaret only asked questions she would only experience the former. What was so bad about living? If she wanted to climb a tree, why did she ask how it was instead of doing it herself? There was nothing to be gained – not even, to a certain extent, knowledge – if one did not experience it with their own senses. Surely one would hear about it and understand the basic operation, but on nowhere near the same level. It just did not make sense to him in any way.

Even Alice agreed. She had told him about her world's customs and traditions and how she thought them all idiotic, and told him about how she had made a life for herself outside of what was expected of her. No, it had not turned out how she would have preferred – in fact it had turned rather dire just before she came to Underland – but she had the experience and knowledge to not make the same mistake, and she had said that she would not have traded it for any number of months with her nose in a book. It was something that Margaret would never understand, no matter how much she asked.

He pulled his sword out of the dummy's wrist, a bit surprised, its hand dangling from its stump of an arm by a few strands of hay. Undoubtedly, Alice's vigor was one of the reasons they had ended up being as close as they were. She liked to do things. On more than one occasion they had even crossed swords. She had requested his full force, and even though she fought admirably (And even tired him out), he had bested her and she had accepted defeat with grace. She learned, adapted, and applied, and the next time they fought she had done much better.

He thought back to their horseback ride. It had been obvious that she had no idea what she'd been doing, but of course she was too stubborn to admit it. He would have made some sort of comment about it, but she had been so concentrated that he had found it better to just stay quiet. If she wanted to learn, then she would learn, just as she always preferred. But of course the moment she became distracted she had lost control. He could remember with perfect lucidness how she fell, the sound of her landing in a heap in the snow. He remembered jumping off his own horse and running over to her, kneeling on the ground in front of her and lifting her up, feeling bewildered and relieved that she was even conscious. He remembered the bizarre feeling he got when she had set her hand on his knee, almost as if she was afraid he would vanish out from beneath her, her brows furrowed as she gasped and coughed. And then her free hand was on his arm, her blonde head bowed and her shoulders hunched, shaking like a leaf on a tree. He could remember deciding that he did not care if she did not like it as he picked her up and carried her to his horse, holding her close on the way back to the stable, warm despite the frigid air, her body molding to every curve of his.

Suddenly he was pulled back to the present as he stumbled forward, rolling his ankle and grabbing the dummy for support. He stood motionless for a moment, embarrassed at the simple misstep, then pulled away and sheathed his sword, closing his eye. He sighed and shook his head, annoyed at himself and this apparent _weakness_. What was causing him to be so foolish he did not know, but he suspected it had something to do with Alice.

----

It was still early as Stayne walked down the empty halls, eager for something to do. There were, of course, many things to do around the castle, but after making such an amateur mistake in the training room it was probably better that he did not do some of them.

He had been heading to the stables when he passed by one of the two ballrooms and noticed that there was music coming from behind the almost-closed doors. Glancing inside, he caught sight of whom else but Alice, doing graceful twirls and jumps around the expansive room while a piano played music apparently of its own accord. He glanced down the hall, then stepped closer to the door, peering inside.

She was dressed in a knee-length cream-coloured dress that had to be made of no more than three yards of fabric. It drifted and fell around her body alluringly as she danced around, a look of distant concentration on her face, unaware that he was watching. She would jump and land on the tips of her toes, then twirl, bending backwards further than he knew she could, spreading her arms with nothing but grace before she was off again, writhing and twisting and spinning, all in perfect harmony with the music. It was mesmerizing to watch. He had never seen it before. There was dancing in Underland, for sure, but nothing like this. At the present moment she had jumped at least three feet, landed on one foot, and melted into a spin that seemed to last hours. She made it look effortless, her eyes closed and head leaned back to expose her pale neck, her skirts billowing out around her and revealing her slender, shapely legs. He could not look away.

She came to a stop and almost kneeled on the ground as she paused, her chest rising and falling in a carefully controlled rhythm, then took a small leap, landing on her toes and traveling some five feet before jumping again. As she did, her eyes opened and met his. Distracted and surprised, she landed wrong, twisting her ankle and coming to a stumbling halt. After hissing in pain, she looked up at him, embarrassed. He pushed through the doors and walked towards her.

"I'm sorry," he said. She sat down on a nearby chair, nursing her ankle.

"It's alright," she said. "You just… surprised me." He reached her and pulled a chair over, sitting opposite her. She looked up at him, blushed, then looked down at her ankle again, rubbing it. "Good morning… Ilosovic," she mumbled, trying out his name. He grinned.

"Good morning, Alice." He watched her for a moment. She leaned back and took a deep breath, continuing to rub her ankle. "I have never seen that type of dancing before," he said. She finally looked up at him, but quickly looked away at the piano, which was still playing away.

"Oh?" she said. "It's ballet. I was taught it in London for a bit, but I did not like it very much after they began pressing me to pursue it as a career. I have heard horror stories about the girls who are professional dancers!" She looked nervous, shaking her head and removing her shoe. "Still… it can be quite relaxing sometimes."

He nodded, the images of her dancing repeating in his mind. She exhaled sharply, touching a tender spot on her leg and leaning down to examine it. Without thinking too much about it, he leaned forward and grabbed her ankle, pulling it over to his lap. She did not object, but looked thoroughly confused and just a bit suspicious, the tenseness in her muscles a clear indication that she was ready to pull away should he cross the line. He pulled off his gloves and ran his hands over her ankle, her skin smooth beneath his calloused fingers. He glanced up at her, but she was looking at his wrist, where her ribbon was still situated.

"I see you kept my hair-tie," she observed, her voice quiet, almost as if she just wanted to make fun of him. He paused, casting his gaze to her ankle, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"You were the one who gave it to me," he said, a bit of sarcasm in his words. "I thought it would be rude to just disregard it." He looked up at her again. She was grinning, one eyebrow raised as if to question his true motive. Of course he had kept it because he was… hopelessly _in love_ with her, but he was not about to admit that to anyone.

She sighed, resting her hands on the back of her neck. He stared at her for a long moment. She looked particularly pretty right now, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, hanging over one shoulder in a curly blonde mass. He closed his eye, moving his chair closer until she bent her leg, and brushed her skirt off her knee before pressing his lips against it. His hands itched to run through that hair, to follow the curves of her arms and entangle themselves in her fingers, but instead he kept them firmly on her ankle, resisting the urge to move anywhere else. He pulled away and looked at her. She was staring at him, her hands still on the back of her neck, her lips parted as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.

And then she looked over his shoulder, to the open doors of the ballroom, and pulled away faster than he had time to realize, leaving him holding nothing but air. He turned around and spotted Margaret just before she disappeared out of sight.


	8. Fantastical

Whoa, another chapter. Next week I start some highschool/college class type dealies, so I am grabbing Spring Break by the horns and churning out all the writing I can before I am drained of free time, haha... After that I'll just be jotting down some ideas I have for one-shots and (as far as AiW stuff goes) trying to make Stayne more in-character. :O

This is the longest chapter so far! Whoa, whoa! I don't know what happened there, but I was pleasantly surprised that this ended up being nearly/over (The count differs between Word and Fanfiction -Shrugs-) 3,100 words long! Yaaaay! -Dances-

I do not own, but Lewis Carroll/Tim Burton do!

* * *

Glancing between Stayne and the doorway, Alice felt her heart begin racing. How much had Margaret seen? Oh, she had been too careless… She should not have been letting Stayne kiss her like that, anyway. It just wasn't done.

"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, and took off after Margaret. As she neared the doors she heard him get up and follow her, but she barely noticed or cared. She was focused on catching Margaret. She would explain everything if she had to. It was not fair to keep these secrets. No, Margaret deserved to return to London with a peaceful mind.

Stayne caught up to her in a matter of seconds and fell into step beside her, but said nothing. She could see Margaret up ahead, running just to run away. She didn't know her way around the castle, and it was obvious that she was just going to take the first turns she arrived at to try and shake them off.

"I can catch her," Stayne said.

"That does not seem like a smart idea," she said as they rounded a corner, hot on Margaret's heels. The castle staff was becoming more animated now that they were entering breakfast hours and they passed a few chess piece-shaped soldiers who disregarded them.

"Well, it was not a very smart idea of her to spy on us, now was it?" he asked, looking at her.

"Hmm. You can spy on other people, but they cannot spy on you?" she said, smiling despite the situation. He shook his head, looking smug.

"Touché. But it is infinitely more complicated than that," he said.

"That does not answer my question," she said.

She was interrupted by a sudden crash somewhere in front of her, but noticed too late to save herself from joining the growing pile of bodies on the floor. Stayne skidded to a stop, then ran over to survey what had happened. It seemed that Margaret had toppled into a group of assorted soldiers and animals, sending them all to the ground and creating a blockade that Alice had tripped over.

It took a few minutes for everyone to regain their senses and stand up, but Alice had managed to get a good grasp on Margaret and prevent her from going anywhere else. She felt a hard, throbbing pain in her forehead, but for the moment she ignored it. With some effort, she pulled Margaret away from the still recovering crowd.

"What are you doing, Alice?" Margaret asked when they were far enough away. She struggled out of Alice's arms and stepped back, straightening her skirts. "What, in pity's name, are you doing with him?" She pointed at Stayne, who had followed at a distance, looking more curious about what she had to say than anything else. Alice began to speak, but was interrupted. "It is hardly proper, Alice! Mother would be horrified!"

Alice stepped forward. "Margaret, please, keep your voice down," she said.

"So Hamish, a lord, was not enough for you, but… a _guard_ is?"

Alice closed her eyes in annoyance, grabbing her sister's arm and jerking it a bit. "Margaret, I did not love Hamish," she said.

"Do you love _him_?" Margaret asked, gesturing to Stayne. Alice glanced over her shoulder at him, then wrinkled her nose at Margaret.

"Do you have an objection, sister?"

Secretly, she still did not know. Some time in the last few days she had come to the decision that if she was going to trust him, she was going to give him all her trust. No good would come out of her giving him only half of her heart. If she was going to dip her toes in the water, she might as well dive in, and there would always be time to climb out again if she began drowning.

"I have an objection to your _behavior_, if that is what you mean!" Margaret said, pulling out of Alice's grasp. "Just think if anyone would have seen you!"

"They would not have thought twice about it," Stayne mentioned, sounding a bit annoyed. Margaret looked back at him with venom in her eyes, then looked at Alice, who felt a bit awkward now.

"I'm sorry, Margie," she said, giving her a slight grin. "I… It just happened."

"I can see that," Margaret said grimly. She closed her eyes, sighed, then stepped away. "Alice… I'm only concerned for you. I don't want anyone to think… Well…"

"I know," Alice said, frowning. "And they won't. Stayne is… Stayne is respectable." The end of her sentence sounded unnervingly like a question, but she decided to try and at least act like she believed what came out of her mouth, even if she did not fully believe it in her heart yet. Margaret cast her eyes to the ground, furrowing her brow, but Alice grabbed her shoulder as she took a nervous step forward, closing her eyes against the sudden but brief wave of nausea that came over her. Margaret looked at her, fear filling her eyes.

"Alice? Are you okay?" she asked.

Alice squeezed her eyes shut and laughed, nodding. "Of course…" She heard Stayne run up beside her, grabbing her under the arm and beginning a brisk pace down the hall.

"I think it is time you go to the infirmary," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. She put her hand on her forehead.

"Oh, good," she said as Margaret appeared beside her. "After going so long without any injuries at all I end up falling on the ground twice in three days."

"Twice?"

"Indeed. Although, granted, this time it was not her fault," Stayne said, giving Margaret a pointed glance. She looked away in disapproval. It was then that Alice realized that there would be no way for them to get along, and there was little point in her trying to force them to.

"Margaret, I do not want you to go back to London thinking that I am going to shame myself," Alice whispered as she was half dragged alongside Stayne. "I will not. I will not make any stupid decisions."

Margaret pinched her lips together. "I know. I trust you, Alice…" she said, her gaze traveling up to Stayne. "But I do not trust him." Alice cast her eyes down to the floor. She did not know what to say. "Do you know, I asked him if he loved you, and he said no?"

Alice furrowed her brow, sending a shock of pain to her forehead. "You what?" she asked. Margaret blushed, looking sheepish.

"I asked him if he loved you."

Alice stared at her sister in disbelief. Here she was reprimanding Alice on her behavior and yet she had gone out and asked Stayne if he _loved her_? A number of things came to her mind, all of which she wanted to say, but she kept silent.

"He said no?" Alice whispered. Margaret nodded.

"He was either lying to you or to me," she said. "And you will have to find out sooner rather than later…"

Alice felt a strange mixture of anger and fear bubble up inside her, but was not given very much time to dwell on it as they arrived at the infirmary only moments later. She was laid in a cot, Stayne was issued out of the room, and she was being poked and prodded all over again. This time, however, she was not allowed to leave. Although she was given another clean bill of health, it was decided that she would have to stay here for at least a day and a night to make sure that no other symptoms made themselves present.

For a brief moment, Alice was sure she would go crazy.

However, Margaret declared that she would stay by her bed until she was 'well again', and within seconds after the doctors left they were engaged in conversation.

"I had been planning on leaving today," she said.

"You may, if that is what you wish," Alice said, drawing her knees to her chest and discreetly laying her hand on the spot where Stayne's kiss seemed to still linger. Margaret sighed.

"But I can't until I know you are well," she said.

"I will be fine," Alice said. Margaret gave her a penetrating gaze, her head tipped to the side just a bit.

"But… I want you to be _well_. I want you to be secure in your life, Alice," she said.

"I will be," Alice insisted. "No matter what happens, I am determined to be happy. And I am. You are not mother, Margaret… There is no need to be so entirely caught up in my affairs. You have your own family that you need to take care of." Margaret nodded. "I will ask the White Queen if it is possible for me to write you, and I shall. If you are worried that we will lose touch, don't be. I love you, and the last thing I want is to cause you pain."

Alice licked her lips. Margaret looked thoughtful, then swallowed.

"I know. I just… I had no idea that this is what you wanted. I suppose it's more of a shock than anything else, and perhaps I am a bit jealous of you. I always pictured our children running and playing around the garden as we had tea. I always pictured us at balls together, and going on trips and to operas. I never imagined that you wouldn't be a part of those visions."

Alice looked away, overcome by a sudden wave of emotion. She sighed. She would have offered to visit if she did not detest London. Besides, the thought leaving and not being able to return to Underland for whatever reason sent a cold terror through her veins. She could think of nothing to say to comfort Margaret, so she remained silent. The topic was discussed no further.

The day passed fairly quickly, to Alice's relief. Margaret left to find a book, but when she tried to read it aloud it only frustrated her, leading to Alice teaching her sister all about the language and what it meant. The impromptu lesson lasted the entire day, as there was so much to teach, and before long it was dark. There was some conversation over the meager little dinner that had been delivered to her bed, mostly consisting of Alice trying to reassure Margaret that she didn't have to stay overnight. After a lot of talk, Margaret finally gave in and went to her bedroom, leaving Alice alone on her cot.

She spent the next few hours in quiet solitude (Except for the occasional nurse who would come in to check up on her), reading the book that Margaret had brought and seizing the chance to let her mind be silent for a bit. Despite the fact that she was here because she had injured herself, it was nice to be able to relax. She did not have to worry about anyone bothering her, since the doctors were so insistent that she get her rest, so she was free to do whatever she pleased without worry.

Eventually the lights were extinguished so that she and the other patients could sleep, although she was not at all tired. She decided to lie down to appease them, but she had no intention of sleeping. There was a small, unimposing lantern next to her bed that she lit so she could continue reading, which she did for another whole hour before she was distracted by a small commotion near the entrance.

She could not hear what was being said, but she could see that there was a nurse trying to keep Stayne out of the infirmary, saying that it just wouldn't be proper if Alice didn't have a chaperone. From what she could see of Stayne's face, he did not look at all happy and was giving her several reasons why he should be let in, throwing in a number of choice words, as well. She almost laughed out loud, but instead drew her eyes down to her book, acting like she did not notice.

Finally he managed to force himself into the infirmary and, although the nurse looked shocked and offended, did nothing but stare at him in open-mouthed disapproval. Alice found that she began re-reading the same sentence several times over as he came closer, choosing to look up at him only when he stopped about a foot away.

"Hello," she said. He said nothing. She felt something awkward shift inside her at his lack of response. Was he angry for some reason? What in the world would he be angry about? Without warning, he sat on her bed, eliciting a startled gasp from the nurse, who, at Stayne's silently dangerous look, hurried out of the room. He looked around the room as the doors closed, enveloping them in silence since the few other patients were already asleep.

She sat up a bit, closing the book and setting it on the table beside her, her fingers shaking. She wished he would speak. His silence was unnerving, almost unbearable. It was a mystery to her what he had to say, but evidently it was important enough that he was going to think it through very carefully before letting it out. She itched to lay a hand on his shoulder, but it would do nothing but distract him and possibly drag on the silence even longer, so she remained still, waiting. Finally he spoke.

"I feel… deeply… for you, Alice," he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. She blinked, confused, her heart seeming to skip a few beats. What was this? Was he… Was he confessing his love for her?

She closed her eyes, wanting to laugh at her stupidity. _Get your thoughts together, Alice_, she thought. Of course there had to be something more. Stayne was simply not that kind of man, and she was not that kind of woman. She was letting her fantasies and emotions cloud her vision. She had to look through them and pay attention to the present.

"I know Margaret told you about her asking me if I…" he trailed off, shaking his head, glancing around the room as if someone might be listening.

"If you loved me?" Alice said, pushing past all discomfort.

"Yes," he said, looking mildly repulsed. He paused, plotting out his next words. She waited, her stomach twisting itself into little knots with each passing second that he did not speak. "And I know she must have told you my answer."

"She did."

He paused again, exhaling loudly and sliding towards her a bit. "I do not want you to think that I… I… I don't…" He pinched his lips together in a frown, looking frustrated.

"You don't…?" she asked, feeling that she already knew what he was trying to say but goading him just a bit. Several different expressions crossed his face as he tried to decide what to say, and she almost wanted to laugh again. It was a bit comforting to realize how much of his guard he let down when he was with her. It made her feel empowered somehow.

"I do not want you to think that I don't _feel _for you, Alice," he said, leaning towards her. She leaned back, her fingers digging into the sheets nervously as he got closer. His breathing was shallow, almost pained, and it took him a moment to realize that he had pushed himself so far into her personal space.

"I never thought that," she admitted, looking at the floor as he pulled away. She was probably supposed to think that, right? After all, he was… well, Ilosovic Stayne. She wondered what had happened to all of her former opinions about him. She figured she should be worried, at least to some degree. What if he was just pretending to like her so much? What if there was some other, more sinister motive beneath his affection? She would not put it past him. But even if that was the case, she could not feel concerned, even when she tried to prove to herself that he was up to no good.

He looked a bit surprised at her confession, but then he smiled, a bit solemnly, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The longer he sat there, the more serious he became. She swallowed.

"Why did you lie to Margaret, then?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's really none of her business whether I… love you or not," he said, not looking at her.

"But she is my sister," she said.

"Yes, but she is not your mother, nor is it her place to decide who you… keep as company." He looked at her, his expression saying so much more than his words. She smiled, shaking her head.

"And you don't like her," she said.

"No," he said without hesitation. "I do not."

She laughed, trying to keep it quiet so as not to wake anyone up. He sighed and leaned back, his head landing in her lap, quieting her laughter significantly. Unable to stop herself, before she thought about it, before that scared little voice in the back of her head could tell her that she was taking this too fast, she ran one hand through his hair. He closed his eye, lips parted slightly, and relaxed into the cot. She almost pulled back. Again every cell in her body was warning her not to let him too close, but she fought against them. This was far from the most dangerous thing she'd done. Compared to slaying a Jabberwocky, this was child's play…

And maybe it was that faint sense of danger that somehow made him so alluring.

Her other hand found his jaw as she leaned down, hovering just inches from his lips, her mind engaged in a ruthless battle. He remained motionless, his breath warm against her skin, the only sound in the silent room.

Finally something clicked inside and her mind went blessedly blank. She let a faint smile twist the corners of her mouth, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair and her heart tangling itself in this fantastical feeling, this bizarre, outlandish, utterly _mad_ sensation.

"I _feel_ for you, too, Ilosovic," she whispered, and kissed him before anyone had any chance to do anything.


	9. Promise

Uck, sorry for the shortness/crappiness of this chapter. My brain is mush right now due to homework, which I have never had before since I've been homeschooled all my life. :O I will add more onto it in the near future. Anyway, I think this story will end up being wrapped up in the next chapter, actually, which I will make super long to make up for this one. And then I've got tons of ideas for one-shots, which will be much more fun to write between school-work. -Dies-

Also, I saw the movie for the third (And probably final until it's released on DVD, sadly) time today! Yippee! Funnily enough, when Stayne crashes the Mad Hatter's tea-party, right when it shows him and his horse rearing up and looking all fearsome, the screen went black and the music just faded out, sounding pathetic and silly, engulfing the theatre in darkness. Many lulz were had, and the family sitting in front of us began clapping like it was the end of the movie. After a few minutes, they fixed it and we all resumed watching, but it was just funny and I thought it was a good story. :P

Anyway, rambling over. I do not own anything (Except textbooks, aaugh)!

* * *

Margaret stood in the entrance courtyard, staring down into her tiny vial of Jabberwocky blood and looking perplexed. There were very few people around to see her off, the little crowd consisting of Alice, the White Queen, a few soldiers, and Stayne, who was really only here because he could not wait to see Margaret leave.

She looked up at Alice, trying to mask the tears in her eyes. Stayne barely managed to suppress rolling his eye, looking down the long pathway that lay perpendicular to their position to distract him and wishing she would just drink the blood already. "Well… Alice," she said, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too, Margeret," Alice said. There was a moment of silence, and even though he wasn't watching he could tell they were embracing.

"Are you sure you won't come?"

At this he turned towards them. Alice glanced at him and gave him a slight grin. "I'm sure," she said, nodding. "It's okay. You go."

Margaret smiled, kissed Alice on the forehead, and stepped back. She turned and curtsied to the White Queen, who curtsied back. "Thank you for allowing me to stay in your castle, Your Majesty," she said.

"It was no trouble at all," Mirana said, smiling. Margaret glanced between the vial in her hands and Alice, then quickly flipped the lid open and drank it with a grimace.

"Fairfarren, Alice," Margaret said, a sly smile on her face. Alice giggled.

"Fairfarren, Margie," she said, her voice quiet.

Margaret turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Be good to her, please, sir," she said, a deadly seriousness behind her light smile. He closed his eye and smirked for a moment, and when he looked again she was gone, leaving the crowd in a prolonged silence. He looked at Alice, who looked a bit amused. He sighed, shaking his head and crossing his arms. The White Queen began walking towards the stairs, beckoning for everyone to follow.

"Well," she said, "That's that."

Alice waited for everyone else to begin moving before doing so herself. He walked beside her at the back of the crowd.

He thought back the previous night, in a bit of a daze. He had been somewhat asleep when he'd visited her, although of course not so much that he had just spouted nonsense. He could remember what he'd said and what he'd meant to say. He could remember lying down on her bed and resting his head in her lap, and he could remember her willfully kissing him. It had been a relaxing, private, pleasant moment that had been broken all too soon by that irritating, overbearing nurse who had come in in a rage and almost forced him out. He could have easily resisted and stayed with Alice, but no good would have come out of that, so he left.

He hadn't seen much of her this morning, but he knew she and Margaret had had breakfast together and hadn't left each other's sides until now. And now that Margaret was gone, he felt a significant weight off his shoulders. At least now he did not have to worry about her interrupting him and Alice, or asking him strange questions, or being a general bother. It was just one less person to have to put up with… at least to him. He glanced at Alice, who was watching the ground as she walked, looking contemplative. He had never had much of a family, so he could not say he knew what she was going through, if anything at all. She was quite talented at hiding her emotions when she wanted to, and right now she only looked the slightest bit unhappy.

She looked up at him, then grabbed his arm and pulled him off the pathway in a different direction than the rest of the little crowd. The snow was half melted, now more liquid than anything, revealing dark yellowish grass underneath.

"I'm confused," she said out of nowhere, wrapping her arms around herself.

"About?"

She looked down, embarrassed. "About you," she said.

He had to admit he was a bit surprised. He had been expecting her to talk about Margaret, to admit that she was confused about whether to stay in Underland or go back to London, but apparently she did not want to talk about her sister, or if she did she did not want to talk about her with him.

"Enlighten me."

She bit her lip, choosing her words carefully, and for a moment it seemed like she might just change her mind and not say anything. "I… am confused about… my feelings for you," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"It did not seem that way last night," he said, a bit amused. She looked surprised, then blushed a bright red, evidently finding her feet a much more interesting thing to look at than him.

"Well, I… I…" she stuttered. He exhaled.

"Alice… I do wish you would make up your mind," he said, trying not to sound too on edge. She glared up at him.

"Do you think this is easy?" she asked. "I would love to make up my mind. Honestly. But it's just a _bit_ more complicated than that."

"Explain, then," he said, stopping and turning towards her. She stopped, hesitant to speak.

"Well, you _did_ work for the Red Queen, and you _did_ try to get me arrested and killed."

"Yes, I did."

"Not to mention that time in the Red Queen's castle, when you…" She cut herself off, but the fresh flush in her cheeks said it all, revealing exactly what she was thinking of. He almost laughed, but bit his tongue to stop himself. "Well… I just mean…" she continued, "you have not been the most pleasant person, to me or anyone else."

He smiled, looking down at his mud-covered boots for a moment and resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "As far as having you arrested, what else could I do?" he asked, not really expecting her to answer. "Of course I wasn't going to let her take my head off."

"You lied. Arrest me for unlawful seduction?" she asked, a challenge in her gaze.

"I had to," he said.

"No."

"You expected me to just let her behead me?" he asked. "You'd have done just the same." She fell silent, then swallowed.

"And then you just betrayed her without a second thought after she was banished." He shook his head, holding back his laughter. "You're a backstabber and a liar… And I'm afraid that's all you are," she said, crossing her arms.

He let out a soft chuckle, then sighed, shrugging. "Do you want me to be some perfect gentleman?" he asked.

"No. But I don't want you to… to betray me," she said, trying her absolute hardest to maintain eye-contact with him. He could just tell by her expression that it was nerve-wracking to have to look directly at him, that she longed to look back down at her feet.

He noticed that she was shaking, but whether it was her nervousness, the cold, or some other factor that was causing her to do so, he did not know. She was putting her heart out in the open, and it was probably incredibly tough for her, and he had to respect her for it. He had never had the confidence or desire to express his feelings, desires, or fears to anyone. He had always been content to keep them to himself, and Alice, it seemed, was almost the same.

He understood her fear. It was a valid one, he had to admit. He could not promise anything at the moment, but it was not like he was just going to turn his back on her on a whim.

He walked over to her and kneeled down in front of her, trying to ignore the cold, wet feeling of melted snow and mud seeping through his trousers. He reached over and grabbed her hands, pulling them towards him. "Alice…" he said, "I am only human."

She attempted to pull away, but he kept her there. She looked vaguely worried now. "Don't try and squirm out of this," she told him, her voice grim. "Either promise me that you won't betray me or don't, because otherwise there is no sense in letting this affair go any further." He let an amused grin appear on his lips again, looking down at their clasped hands. She seemed hesitant and yet all-too-eager to let go, her gloved fingers trembling. She was determined, it seemed.

"I cannot promise you," he said. She clenched her hands into fists.

"I see." She pulled away and stepped back. He reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her towards him. She put up little fight.

"However," he said, burying his face in her neck and swallowing his pride, "I will try."

After a moment of uncertainty, she ran her fingers through his hair and leaned down, giving him a quick, chaste kiss on the temple before stepping away. She was smiling now, but still looked dreadfully uneasy. She pulled him to his feet. "If you do stab me in the back, you will regret it," she said, looking just a little bit too bright. He laughed, as did she.


	10. Brightness

So we've come to -Dun dun dun- the end! I would be more enthusiastic if I weren't dead tired, sorry! I'm going to be frank here: I am pretty sick of writing this story. I've got a different idea that I really want to start writing (Actually, I think I'll _plot_ this one out first!), plus all this crazy homework. Also, we got a new dog!! His name is Victor and he is super awesome. :)

As far as this particular chapter goes, I'm not completely satisfied with it. I may or may not revise some parts in the future, but it all just depends. :O Anyway, it's been pretty fun writing this, and I want to thank everybody who took the time to read/review/add to alerts/etc. Thank you so much!!!! This story received so much more love and attention than I ever could have expected, and I am so, so grateful to you guys! Much hugs and tea to you!! -Kiss kiss kiss hug hug hug xoxoxoxo-

As always, I own nothing! Tim Burton/Lewis Carrol do!

* * *

Alice sighed, interrupted by a big clock alerting her that it was six in the evening, and looked up from her book to the pond, where a few ducks were dunking their heads under the water in search of food and having a heated debate about what sort of fish was tastiest. She looked up at the blue sky, tinted with orange at the edges, scanned the cottony clouds, then closed her eyes as a warm breeze rushed over her. It was late summer in Underland. The trees were just beginning their turn from green to gold, but the air was holding desperately to the lingering warmth, even during the increasing rain. This was the best time of year, she thought.

It had been almost a year since her courtship with Stayne had officially begun, and it had taken a long time but eventually most of the awkwardness surrounding it had faded. There were still so many things to sort out, countless issues that had already and would arise, and Alice's fickle trust in him had yet to solidify on either side of the fence, but for the most part it was a pleasant, quietly passionate affair.

The wind passed. Alice opened her eyes and gazed at the ducks again, her mind grazing over the book she held. She had tried her hardest to concentrate on it, but to no avail. Her thoughts were occupied with other things, most prominently swordplay. She had just finished a rigorous training session against Tarrant, adding a few new moves to her mental arsenal. By now she was quite knowledgeable in sword-fighting. Sometimes she wished that the Jabberwocky was still alive just so she could slay it again now that she knew what she was doing.

She glanced beside her at the simple wicker basket she'd brought. There was a little cloth on top, covering a meager meal. She pushed herself farther back on the bench, drumming her fingers on the front cover of her now-closed book. Stayne would be arriving any moment to join her for dinner, which did not happen very often. She didn't mind so much. She enjoyed the time they had together, but did not feel any desire to spend every last moment with him. She had seen it happen more than once in London and it had greatly annoyed her. She did not understand how two people could be so… obsessed with each other. She liked Stayne – loved him, actually, although it was still strange to admit it – but that was no excuse to loiter in his presence every second of every day, and she had no desire to.

Falling in love was not how she had imagined it would be. Then again, her particular situation was not normal, so maybe she would never know. She had not expected to be so hesitant or uncertain, but of course she had not expected to fall head over heels. Really, she did not know what she had expected.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Stayne rounding the corner, looking winded. He paused when he spotted her, catching his breath before walking over and sitting down beside her. She watched him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded.

"A minor scuffle," he said, and went no further. She nodded. That was enough for her.

"Well…" she said, standing up and picking up the basket. "I thought that we could sit over there by that tree." She pointed to a large tree on the opposite side of the pond. He stood up and nodded, falling into step beside her as she walked. It was a silent trip to the tree, which struck her as a bit strange. Usually he had something, even if it was insignificant, to tell her, but today he seemed distracted. She looked up at him from under her lashes. He was staring ahead, looking distant, his face flushed from his apparent run here. She tightened her grip on the basket, feeling a small, silly fear settle in her stomach. What if he was going to call this off? What if he had decided he no longer wished to court her? Perhaps he was just trying to figure out the best way to tell her… He _had_ been rather distracted the past few days…

No. She closed her eyes. No, it was fine. She was being silly.

He helped her spread out the blanket on the ground, and then she unpacked the little meal. It consisted of various different sandwiches and fruit, as well as some sort of Underland-specific fruit juice to drink. It was not fancy at all, but it went unnoticed.

Neither of them had much of an appetite. Stayne had removed his breastplate and set it aside, and now he was lying down on the blanket with just an orange and nothing else. She crawled over and sat down next to him, peeling her own orange.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked. "You haven't been yourself lately. Everyone's noticed. Even Tarrant."

He looked up at her, looking a bit like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'm fine," he said, smiling. She raised an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on her for a few moments, softening, before he looked away. She felt her stomach give a small, familiar lurch at the subtle shift, at the quiet fondness she'd caught in his face before he returned to being blank.

"You've been quieter than usual," she said, stretching her legs out in front of her and discarding her orange peel.

"Really, Alice, I am fine," he said, sounding not at all fine and, in fact, quite solemn.

"I don't believe you," she said. He looked up at her again, a deadpan expression on his face, but she stared at her orange, picking at random bits to appear occupied. "If there's something bothering you, you can tell me."

He sighed. "There is nothing bothering me," he insisted. She just shook her head. She knew he was lying, but she didn't push it any further. He set his orange on the blanket beside him and tucked his arms under his head. There was a long silence. A part of Alice wanted to lie down beside him and nestle into his side and stare up at the leaves with him, but another, larger part of her was too annoyed at his stubbornness to want to do anything with him. She figured she would just give it a rest for now and come back to it some other time.

"I've been thinking about paying a visit to the Red Queen's castle," he said. She nearly dropped her orange, her gaze involuntarily snapping to his face.

"Why?" she asked blankly.

"I'm curious," he said. "I'm curious as to what it's become."

"I'm not," she said, taking a bite of her orange.

"No, I don't imagine you are," he said. "I'm not asking you to come with me."

She set her orange down on the blanket beside her with a little more force than was necessary. "I will, if you want," she said, trying not to sound irritated and failing.

He burst into laughter. She hovered between being even more irritated and being relieved that he was showing any sort of emotion at all. He rolled onto his stomach and looked at her, a playful spark in his eye, before tossing an arm around her torso and rolling over. Before she had time to react, she was jolted over his body and to his other side. She ended up lying on her side, facing him, his arms wrapped tightly around her back. She felt her breathing become shallow and her heart begin racing, her annoyance giving way to confusion. Within seconds, he leaned his forehead against hers, his eye closed, his voice quiet.

"Marry me," he mumbled, his words slurred together, almost as if they had slipped through his lips on accident.

She felt the entire moment come to a screeching halt, all thoughts in her head replaced with a loud, blank buzzing that vibrated through her skull. She could have sworn that her heart stopped beating, and all breath escaped her body, leaving her feeling helpless and absolutely baffled. Stayne remained in close proximity, surprisingly relaxed in contrast to her chaotic thoughts, his breath warm against her neck.

"W… What?" she asked, her voice monotone. He furrowed his brow, moving even closer to her.

"Marry me, Alice," he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. She gripped his shirt, trying her hardest to keep her thoughts straight, which proved to be an incredibly difficult feat. Dozens upon dozens of thoughts all wanted to invade her jumbled brain all at once, while she was just trying to concentrate on what he was asking right at that moment.

"Are… Are you serious?" she asked.

He began laughing at her again, opening his eye. "I am absolutely serious," he said. Her eyes burned and she buried her face in his chest to hide it. She felt a million different things all at once, from fear to happiness to bewilderment, her hands shaking, her heart rioting inside her chest so hard it was almost painful. Here she was, worried that he might not want her, when in reality he wanted her to marry him? He was sincere now, all traces of laughter gone as he leaned down towards her. He released her and found her hands, his fingers closing around hers and holding them against his shoulders.

She pulled away and looked at him. "I will," she said, trying to keep the ridiculous laughter out of her voice. "Of course I will marry you." She freed one of her hands to take hold of his face, unable to resist leaning up and kissing him. "And I'll go to the Red Queen's castle with you if want. I'll go with you wherever you want." She pinched her lips together to stop herself from talking anymore, her cheeks burning, feeling like more of a fool than she had ever felt before. He gave her a relieved smile, slipping his arms around her back and pulling her close. Alice buried her face in the warmth of his chest again, trying to keep herself from bursting into tears.

She could not keep the smile off her face for the rest of the day.

----

Alice fumbled with the pen in her hand as she tried to write to Margaret. She had been surprised to learn that she could, but it had turned out to be a great comfort. Margaret gave her regular reports as to the condition of London, and of their mother, who had been told that Alice had gone to America. At the moment, Alice was attempting to figure out the best way to announce to Margaret that she was now engaged, but every time she went to write it down her mind wandered down a different path.

Her stomach tied itself into knots when she thought about it. She was going to be married… It was otherworldly, in a way. It made her head spin, her heart race, her fingers shake in anticipation. It made her want to giggle and jump and dance around the room, but she remained steadfastly in her seat. She would not resort to such flamboyant displays. She had yet to even fully grasp the idea, the fact that she would be getting _married _to _Ilosovic Stayne_. She could barely manage to resist saying her name and attaching his last name to the end, and when she thought of it she felt more than a bit embarrassed. She had to get a hold of herself, or she was sure she would go mad.

She stood up and walked to her window, opening it just enough to get some fresh air. She leaned forward, resting her face against the glass and closing her eyes, trying to straighten her thoughts out. Being so obsessed with the thought of marriage just seemed silly to her, and some part of her loathed that she was being such a silly little girl, yet she decided to ignore and push away that part. Being engaged was a happy event, and she would not let cynicism ruin it.

She was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, causing a peculiar pins-and-needles sensation to buzz through her body. She ran over to her mirror, straightened her hair, and pulled a robe on, tying it around her waist. Just for good measure, she pinched her cheeks a few times before going to the door and opening it. To a mixed relief and disappointment, she found the White Queen on the other side of the threshold, still in full dress. Alice made a small curtsy and stepped back.

"Oh, your majesty," she said, "Hello. I was not expecting you."

Mirana remained still for a moment, and then a large grin spread across her lips and she walked into the room, grabbing Alice's hands and squeezing them.

"Dear Alice, I heard the news," she said. Alice blushed.

"You did?" she asked.

"Indeed. Gossip spreads like wildfire here in the castle," Mirana said. "I came to offer my congratulations. You are excited, I presume?"

Alice could only nod, the embarrassing, almost overwhelming urge to burst into tears returning to her.

"Good," the White Queen said, looking a bit like a proud mother. She glanced around, then gently pushed the door closed with her foot. She leaned forward, looking sly. "I think I ought to give you my present now," she said, excitement laced in her calm voice. Although Alice was puzzled at how the White Queen could have a gift only hours after the engagement had come into existence, she did not question it. Even if it was obvious she had heard the inquiry, she had a curious habit of choosing not to answer, so over time Alice had learned that it was better just to not ask at all.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Mirana pulled a small, rolled-up piece of fabric and held it out to Alice. After casting a wary glance at the Queen and receiving a look of approval in return, she unfurled it. It was very short night-dress, shorter than Alice had ever seen, decorated with lace and ribbon. She felt heat climb up her neck, and when she looked back up at Mirana she was met with a very devious smirk.

"I don't think I need to tell you when you'll be wearing that," she said.

Alice began laughing, the irresistible giddiness finally getting the better of her, and Mirana joined. "Thank you," Alice managed to say, rolling the dress up again.

A knock on the door interrupted them and, turning to find Stayne in the doorway, Alice blushed again. Mirana swallowed her laughter, taking a moment to regain her composure before grabbing Alice's hands. "Well," she said, "I should be going." She kissed Alice's cheek, then left, Stayne stepping out of her way without a word. Alice stuffed the little nightgown into one of the drawers of her dresser, then joined Stayne in the hall.

"Hello," she said, trying not to sound too awkward.

"Hello," he replied. There was a moment of silence. "I've got something for you."

She smiled, struck by the amusing thought of two different gifts within minutes of each other. "I… really?" she asked.

"Well, yes," he said, reaching into his back pocket as he spoke. He grabbed her hand and, without really waiting, slid a simple gold ring onto her finger. She blushed. The ring seemed to send pins and needles through her skin, up her arm and into her chest. She failed to mask the smile that appeared on her lips as she looked up at him.

"Well…" she said, "Thank you." The corners of his lips turned upwards. He leaned down and kissed her lips, then her closed eyelid, leaving her skin tingling. As he tried to pull away, she grabbed his face in her hands, holding him there for a long, lingering moment before kissing his chin and letting him go.

"Goodnight," he said, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it. She suppressed a giggle.

"Goodnight," she told him breathlessly, her heart racing. He gave her a smile – a small, but sincere smile – and a bow, then turned and walked down the hall. She went back to her room and closed the door, leaning against it. Her gaze went to the ring, as if magnetized, where it rested on her finger, burning the skin. She tried to resist the giddy laughter that wanted to escape her, but it bubbled through despite her efforts.

She clenched her hands into fists and jumped around the room. Her future looked bright.

Very, very bright, with no clouds in the sky.

----

--The End--


End file.
